Little Roots: A Champion's memoir
by The Hint Guy
Summary: The adventures of a young trainer named Lidya Pine in the harsh, unforgiving world of Pokémon. A storylocke (written narrative of a nuzlocke) of the original Pokémon Sapphire (not the 3DS remake). Contains occasional strong language, violence, and sexuality (lime). Please R&R.
1. Little Roots

**Little Roots: A Champion's memoir**

**Prologue**

_You want me to what?_

_Say something to the kids at home? What, like a motivational speech? _

_All right. Fine. I've got something._

_You recording? Good._

My name is Lidya Pine, and I'm now the reigning Pokémon League Champion in Hoenn. I'm sixteen years old. I just defeated Steven, the former Champion. And when all of this began—before the blood, before the tears, before the endless series of lies and heartbreaks and sleepless nights and broken dreams—I was just a kid.

I was thirteen the first time I saw a Pokémon battle live. Not one of these staged ones they do for the cameras on all the networks. Not the kind of battle they tell you about in those 'trainer schools'—a fancy name for a place that takes your money and teaches you nothing. I'm talking about a _real_ battle. The kind of battle that happens when two trainers meet on the trail, and one sizes the other up and finds them… lacking. The kind of battle where the lucky ones walk away bleeding. The kind of battle that happens in the Gyms, those unregulated dens of gambling and brutality. The kind of battle they don't tell you about when you're thirteen, because if they told you about it when you were thirteen you'd never even pick up that first miserable Pokéball the local professor placed before you on the table.

I was thirteen the first time a Pokémon died in my arms.

Oh yes, I was like you once, young trainer. My eyes were bright and full of hope. Their luster hadn't been dulled by secrets or muted by endless pressures: pressure to win, pressure to be the best, pressure to catch them _all_. I looked out at the world with a haze of innocence clouding my vision.

I was a nobody then… but a happy, dumb little nobody.

…_that's enough? Yeah, I thought so. All right. _

_Sign here? Right-o._

_Yes, I understand._

…_what? No, I don't want to do an interview right now. Just… just come back some other time, okay?_

_Okay. Bye._

* * *

**Chapter 1: Little Roots**

I didn't exactly become a trainer by choice.

My "career" began when we moved to Littleroot Town in the Hoenn region. We'd lived in Olivine in Johto since I was born, never traveling very far from the city. I can't even remember any trips outside of Olivine, come to think of it.

It wasn't exactly clear to me why we'd left. Mom said Dad had gotten a new job, but what was wrong with his old one? And why had there been so much yelling before the move? I couldn't fathom what would make my parents want to leave the lovely, temperate seaside resort town, the only city I'd ever known.

I remember the first day we arrived in Littleroot Town in Hoenn. I rode in the back of the truck with all our stuff because I was worried our valuables would break—pointless, especially since they'd already traveled on a plane to the airport in what I'd later learn was Slateport. There were so many fragile things packed hastily into the bed of the rental truck, and I was kind of a nervous kid. Fortunately, nothing back there got broken… except me. But that was later.

Mom and I arrived at our new home in the afternoon, but Dad wasn't with us. He'd already "gone on ahead" to Petalburg, where his gym was going to be. Mom had explained it this way: "Your father is very important now. He's a Gym Leader. So he won't be staying with us all the time. He'll have to stay in Petalburg some nights, especially when we first get there. You'll have to be strong and help around the house, okay?" She told me this with a strong smile on her face, but I could sense worry in her words.

I took this explanation to mean that Dad was so busy running the operations of a major Pokémon Gym that he couldn't always make the commute back to Littleroot. What it actually meant was something quite different, but at the time I lived in blissful ignorance.

For the rest of the day, we helped the Machoke on loan from the moving company move our stuff into the house. Between the heavy lifting, the hours of travel, and the newness of everything, I was wiped. Mom and I shared a pizza that night and I went to bed early. Dad didn't come home.

I dreamt of clouds.

* * *

The next day, I got myself dressed and ready to explore. It was time to learn more about my new neighborhood. I wore my favorite outfit of the time: a red and white bandana, red shirt with a collar, white skirt, black spandex leggings, and sneakers.

"You should say hello my friend next door," Mom called as I slipped on my shoes at the front door. "Jessica Birch is her name!" I said I would and left.

Minutes later I was ringing the doorbell at the next house. A stout woman answered the door and invited me in. Mrs. Birch told me her husband was out, but her son was upstairs, and that I should go meet him. I took the steps two at a time, eager to greet my new friend. You see, I'd been homeschooled pretty much exclusively up until this point. I thought everyone would always be friends and live in harmony together. It never even _occurred_ to me that someone wouldn't want to be my friend, or worse, would want to be my friend because they wanted something from me.

As it turned out, Brendan Birch fell into the latter category. Mostly. Kind of. Sort of.

He was a slender fourteen-year-old clad in mostly dark tones, with a tuft of auburn hair poking out from beneath his black and white cap. I remember feeling a little self-conscious about how I looked as he opened his bedroom door at my knock—my leggings seemed a bit too short, my brown hair a bit too dumpy in its long pigtails, my red polo a bit too flashy. It was a sensation I hadn't really experienced before, this… _worry _about looking good for a boy. As he studied me, something in his eyes seemed oddly probing. But then he smiled and said hello. I liked his smile.

"You must be the new neighbor. I figured you'd be a boy," he explained.

"What? Why?" I asked.

"Oh, I dunno. Mom said you were a Gym Leader's kid, so I thought you were probably a guy." Brendan shrugged. "Anyway, I'm getting my stuff together for an expedition, so can we talk later?" He walked me back to the front door and scooted me out.

Well, huh. Thought I'd be a guy. Reflecting on it now, I should've socked him for that comment. But at thirteen I hadn't the slightest clue about feminism or equality or anything like that, so I let it go and headed north, toward the tall grass path leading out of town.

Just then a man's scream rent the air. Terrified, I froze in place. Another local kid—perhaps five or six years old—was standing at the end of the path, looking at something up ahead.

"Someone help him!" the kid cried, but he was like me: too scared to move.

I weighed my options. Get involved, get help, just ignore the problem… what to do? After a moment, my blasted sense of compassion kicked in. I had to do what I could. I forced my feet to move and hustled up the trail.

A black dog-like Pokémon was chasing a man in a lab coat round and round, snapping at his heels. "You there!" the man called as he dashed past me. I could see the sweat dripping from his brow as the sun beat down us. "My bag! The Pokéballs!"

I spotted a beige canvas backpack on the ground and dropped to my knees beside it. Rummaging inside produced three red and white balls, each about the size of a tangerine. They were three-toned, with a red top, white bottom, and a black stripe round the middle with a white button opposite a small hinge. I knew them to be Pokéballs, but truth be told a little thrill ran through me—I'd never held one before.

"Use the Pokémon inside!" the man shouted. The beast nipped at his heel.

I grabbed one of the three at random and did my best impression of what I'd seen on TV hundreds of times: shout, push the button, and throw the ball. "I choose _you_!" I shrieked, my voice cracking with fear. The button depressed easily under my thumb, and the ball sailed from my hand like it had wings.

Ironically, something that _did_ have wings popped out when the capsule landed: a rotund little red and orange bird emerged and stood on one leg. "Chiiiic!" it cried. Waves of heat began to radiate from its tiny body.

I was in love. That little fire chicken was the cutest flippin' thing I'd ever seen.

Before I could issue any commands—not that I would've known what to say anyway—the dog turned tail and fled. Victory!

The man was panting as he walked up to me. "Great job. I'm… Professor… phew… Birch. Come back to my… lab… huh…"

A short hike, half an hour, and some further expressions of gratitude later, I was the proud owner of a Torchic—whom I'd decided to name Hotwings, a pun on one of my favorite foods and his species—and on my way north once more, this time bound for an actual destination: Oldale Town.

It wasn't much of a start, I'll admit. And sitting atop the Champion's "throne", as I am now, my past self looks so tiny by comparison. But that's really what it's all about: humble beginnings. Little roots planted in the ground, waiting to sprout. And sprout they did… but the garden they emerged into wasn't as hospitable as I might've hoped.


	2. The Reluctant Trainer

**Chapter 2: The Reluctant Trainer**

It didn't take long to reach Oldale. Really, Littleroot was more or less an extension of the town. A suburb. The burg of Oldale was just as tiny as my new home, but it had two major differences: a large red-roofed building with the letters _PC_ painted on the door, and a similar blue-roofed building labeled _MART_. What were these places?

I passed them by and continued through town, reaching the far side in just a few minutes. A large sign informed me that I was entering Route 103. I hoped to find Brendan here—Professor Birch had tasked me with locating him. Sure enough, Brendan's slim black form appeared just over a nearby ledge. I hustled up.

"Brendan," I said. "Your dad wants you to come back home. He sent me to find you."

"Yeah, yeah, just a minute," Brendan said, waving his hand as though brushing off a fly. He was studying some kind of handheld computer. "Right-o." He snapped it shut and turned. "But before we go… how about a battle? My dad gave you a Pokémon—I can see it on your belt."

My heart leapt to my throat. "A battle?" I stammered. "Are… are you sure?"

"What, are you scared? C'mon!" Brendan's Pokéball was already off his belt. "Let's see what your Pokémon can do!" He released his Pokémon with a cry: "Go, Mudkip!" A squat little blue creature emerged.

No choice. I did my best to hide the nervous shaking in my hand and voice as I shouted, "Hotwings, I choose _you_!" Out came my adorable bird friend, eager to please. Not knowing quite what else to do, I ordered, "Hotwings, attack!"

Hotwings just stood there. He looked at me with a sort of bewildered curiosity, and said, "Chic?"

_WHAM!_ Mudkip slammed into Hotwings, sending them both tumbling over each other. I let out a cry of pain, as though the Pokémon had hit _me_ instead of my Torchic.

"You've got to order it to **scratch**," Brendan informed me, condescension dripping from every word. "That's the only attack it knows right now."

"Hotwings, s-**scratch**!" I hollered unsteadily. Hotwings chirped and slashed with his talons. Wow! A critical hit! Mudkip let out a grunt and staggered back. Hotwings scratched again, and Mudkip stumbled further. Hotwings stood poised over the fallen foe.

"Enough!" Brendan called. He used the Pokéball on Mudkip, returning the creature to wherever it was they went when they were inside the ball. Never came upon a clear explanation for that. "You got lucky this time," Brendan scowled. "See you back at the lab." With that, he shuffled past me—bumping my shoulder as he went—and was gone down the trail.

I stepped up beside Hotwings. "Great job!" I exclaimed, patting his fluffy little head. When I pulled my hand back, I felt something wet on it. Blood. "H-hotwings?"

"Chic!" the little bird squeaked, looking up at me as though nothing were wrong. I returned Hotwings to his ball and hustled back to Oldale. PC… Pokémon something? I hurried through the door, and found myself in the one safe haven I'd encounter for the remainder of my journey to the League: a Pokémon Center.

The friendly blonde nurse at the counter beckoned me over. "This your first time sweetie?" she asked in an unplaceable, drawling accent. Unovan maybe? I nodded.

"Can you fix him?" I asked, handing her the Pokéball. "He was bleeding when I put him in there."

"Sure thing hon, you just wait right here." She turned around and put the ball in some kind of machine. I heard a low hum, and five seconds later the ball was in my hand again. "Good as new! Y'all come back now, hear?" The nurse gave me a bow and a smile.

Pokémon Centers. The only sanctuary in this world of conflict. I would come to love the sight of a PC on the horizon as I entered a new town. But for now, all I had was one Pokémon and zero idea what I was getting myself into.

I left the PC and made my way back to Birch's lab. It was evening when I arrived. "Ah, Lidya! Good of you to join us," the professor said as I entered. He explained that he'd just commissioned Brendan to use a device called a Pokédex to catalog the Pokémon in the region, and that he wanted me to take one as well.

Brendan, naturally, had something smarmy to say about this: "Yeah, Lidya is a good choice to take a Pokédex. She'll do a great job… for a girl."

I walked out of the lab with my new device in hand. The letters D3X were emblazoned on the plastic shell that covered the screen. As I opened the machine, a female voice asked, "NAME AND TRAINER ID?"

"Lidya Pine," I said. "And I don't have an ID."

"REGISTERING NEW USER. ID NUMBER GENERATING… COMPLETE. ID IS 44106." D3X pinged and a new screen appeared. "INFORMATION REGARDING POKÉMON CAPTURE: LOCAL ORDINANCE REQUIRES THAT TRAINERS CAPTURE ONLY ONE POKÉMON PER AREA."

"Um, what?" I said. There was a paragraph of text on the screen, which I skimmed. Hm. Something about scarcity… poaching… illegal battle rings… Hoenn police… I was only allowed to capture one Pokémon on each route? It had to be the first I encountered… D3X would be tracking my information, and if I broke the rules my trainer ID would be sent to the authorities… huh. According to the text, the penalty for breaking this rule was the loss of my license to train. Yikes.

I didn't know it at the time, but this legislation would prove to be a major source of suffering in the months to come.

I stopped by my house on my way out of the lab, unsure of what to do next. "Mom?" I called as I walked in. I'd been gone most of the day.

Mom was sitting in the kitchen. Her eyes were red, and there were tearstains on her cheeks. She appeared to be holding something pink in her hands, but as I approached she slipped it behind her back. "Oh… hi sweetie."

"What's wrong?" I asked worriedly.

"Nothing. Nothing honey." After a moment, Mom rummaged in a bag on the table and produced a shoebox. "I bought you a gift before we left Johto. A pair of running shoes. I thought you might need them for your journey someday. I just didn't realize that day would come so soon."

"My… journey?"

"I always knew this would happen, Lidya," Mom said with a sigh. "You have a Pokémon and a trainer ID and everything now… you're ready, at least on paper."

"Ready for _what_?" I demanded.

Mom looked at me with a curious expression. "Ready to start making your way in the world of Pokémon," she said simply. "Isn't that what you want to do? Isn't that why you went out this morning?"

I gaped at her. "What? No! I just wanted to see the neighborhood! I got wrapped up in all of this by mistake."

Mom looked down and shook her head. "It doesn't matter now. You have to begin your journey." Suddenly her head snapped up, and she stared deeply into my eyes. I could see the stress lines around her cheekbones and eyelids. She looked inexplicably old. "Go, Lidya. Travel around Hoenn. Earn badges. Become lifelong friends with your Pokémon and others you meet along the way." Her hand came up, and she very gently clutched my shirt. "And when you are strong enough, I want you to go to your father's Gym, and I want you to beat him. Do you hear me? I want to you _destroy_ him, _and_ his Pokémon. I want you to make him feel so _low_…" she trailed off. She'd taken the pink object from behind her back, and was clutching it at her side, just barely out of my view. Were those… panties?

"All right mom," I said, feeling more overwhelmed than anything else. "I'll do it. I'll make you proud."

"That's my girl," Mom said, smiling for the first time since we'd started talking.

I spent one more fitful night there. What lay in store for me? I knew many kids went out on journeys with Pokémon, but I'd never really expected to be one of those people. After all, wouldn't my dad have told me something about Pokémon if I were destined to be a trainer? I had no idea.

The next day, mom surprised me with more items. Now I sported a pop-up tent for one, a sleeping bag and pillow, ample supplies, and best of all, a credit card that she said she'd keep a steady balance in. "You'll need to buy supplies in the towns you visit," she explained. "Now scoot along. You can always come home for a hot meal, but I won't wait up. I know you can do it." She smiled widely, bits of tears forming at the edges of her eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too," I said. Then I was off, on the trail to Oldale.

My life as the reluctant trainer had begun.


	3. What are the odds?

**Chapter 3: What are the odds?**

D3X printed the following on her screen: ZIGZAGOON 60%, POOCHYENA 30%, WINGULL 10%. We were just entering Route 103, a bit north of Oldale. I had an empty Pokéball in one hand and Hotwings next to me, ready to catch the first thing that jumped out at us from the grass.

It turned out to be a little brown raccoon creature. A Zigzagoon, D3X informed me. Well, not exactly a rare find, but it would have to do. If I were going to get anywhere in this confusing new world of Pokémon, I'd need more than just one at my side.

"Hotwings, **scratch**!" I hollered. Hotwings slashed at the creature, and it yelped in pain. I winced. Why did I have to hurt it to catch it? The Zigzagoon fought back fiercely, tackling Hotwings to the ground. I let out a cry and threw the ball. Its beam of light struck the Zigzagoon, and in the next moment, D3X pinged to let me know I'd successfully caught the beast.

I named him Noguri, the word for raccoon in Sinnoh, or so one of my friends from Olivine had said. It seemed appropriate, somehow.

I couldn't advance any further on Route 103 for the time being, so after a quick stop at the Pokémon Center, my team and I made our way to Route 102. D3X pinged and reported: ZIGZAGOON 30%, WURMPLE 30%, LOTAD 20%, POOCHYENA 15%, RALTS 4%, SURSKIT 1%. Pictures of each Pokémon briefly flashed on the screen.

We entered the tall grass. I was determined to find another companion here. Just then, a rustling! Two tiny blue legs peeked out. Then two more. Then a little blue body with a yellow pipe on the top. A Surskit! Unbelievable! I sent out Hotwings. Two scratches later, I was the proud owner of the rarest Pokémon on Route 102. In your face, Brendan!

My competitive side was already beginning to show.

I named my new bug Crystal, and returned to the Pokémon Center to heal her. Then it was back to Route 102 to start my long hike west to Petalburg City. From there I could continue north through Petalburg Woods, then up to Rustboro, where I'd find the first gym. The journey would take at least a day—the forest was wide.

I didn't get far before some little punk in shorts came trotting over. "Trainers must battle when they meet!" he informed me.

"Whoa, what?"

"If two trainers meet on the road, they have a Pokémon battle. It's the rules!" he said proudly, as if he'd just recited three hundred digits of pi.

"I dunno," I said, feeling for the Pokéballs on my belt. "Can't we just ignore each other?"

"Sorry, that's not how it works!" He unleashed a Zigzagoon. "Fight!" His little face was contorted in a passionate grimace.

"Fine," I said, hoping my Pokémon were strong enough. I decided to play it safe and send out Hotwings. "Hotwings, **scratch**!"

"Zigzagoon, **tackle**!"

This was pretty much how it went. Soon, the Zigzagoon collapsed, exhausted and covered in tiny cuts. Hotwings was breathing hard, but looked steady. "Return!" the boy called, and his Pokémon was withdrawn. "You win," he said to me, passing me a few yen. "But I'll beat you next time!"

"Sure thing," I said, not really listening.

"I will! Really!" the boy hollered as I walked out of earshot.

Route 102 continued through several more high grass patches, and on the way I encountered a bug catcher and a lass, both of whom I defeated soundly using only Hotwings. Was this what being a trainer was like? I hadn't experienced even a moment's doubt that I'd win every battle so far. Did I really just have a stronger creature than everyone else? Why didn't others have a special Pokémon like mine?

Well, whatever. Mom was counting on me. I kept hiking, wondering when I'd start to feel like a real trainer. As it turned out, I wouldn't have to wait long.

* * *

After camping two nights on the trail, my arrival in Petalburg was less than climactic. No one even seemed to notice as I entered the town. There was the familiar red roof of the PC and its blue twin, the Pokémart. I spied something else, too. A towering brown structure with three familiar letters emblazoned on the front: GYM. Dad's Gym.

Dad had always loved Pokémon. Ever since I can remember, that's all he talked about. All he spent his time doing. I knew he was a trainer, but that was it. Because for some reason, he never shared his passion with me. As I said, I was homeschooled: I had only Mom to teach me about the world, because Dad was out during the day, earning his living as—I assumed—a Pokémon battler. When he came home he'd watch battles on TV, and I was allowed to sit with him if I was quiet and didn't ask questions. My only knowledge of Pokémon came from what I saw on the screen, even though my own father had a collection of the creatures right there in his briefcase.

"Your father is under a lot of pressure," Mom used to say when I asked why he hadn't come home that night, or why he didn't have time to play with me, or why he wouldn't show me his Pokémon even though I was dying to know about them. "He's a very busy man." And that's all I could get out of her.

When we came to Hoenn, Mom had said that Dad was getting new responsibilities and that he was going to provide the family with more money. That's how we were able to afford the nice house in Littleroot, she said. That's how he can afford to also rent an apartment in Petalburg, she said.

Looking at the Gym now, I couldn't understand my father in the least. Why would he want to live here, when he could be in Littleroot with us?

I tried the door. Locked. What had Mom said about his apartment? Ah… right. She said it was attached to the Gym. I walked around the whole building, but there was only one door. Strange.

That evening at the local trainer hostel, I called Mom from the communal phone in the lobby. We chatted about this and that—what Pokémon I'd seen and caught, how the house was coming along, how we missed each other. When I broached the subject of Dad, Mom got real quiet. "Do you know where he is here in Petalburg?" I asked. "I tried to find his apartment but…"

"Your father is very busy," Mom said. "You should probably just leave him be for now. You can see him again next time you go to Petalburg." I accepted this and slept the night.

In my dream, I found myself walking into the Gym. Dad was there, just standing alone in a big room. He greeted me and was so happy to see me. And I told him about my Pokémon, and he gave me a hug and said he was proud of me.

It was a stupid dream.

* * *

The next day I walked around the town for a while, not really sure what to do with myself. I saw a young guy in a hooded sweatshirt standing near on the bank of a small lake, and wandered over.

"When I gaze into the water," the man said as I stood near him, "I see my reflection. It's a shining smile full of hope… or maybe it's a nervous grimace of fear." He turned to look at me, and I realized with a start that he wasn't young, but old, very old. "What does your reflection show, child?"

I couldn't help but look over the edge at my face in the icy blue. My expression was… unreadable. Was I innocent? Naïve? Afraid? Or really just nothing? A blank slate. A fresh start.

I remember walking away from that lake thinking that I had perhaps bitten off more than I could chew.

It was already the middle of the afternoon when I made my way over to Route 104 on the west side of town. Despite the summer heat, a sea breeze whipped past me and chilled me. I slipped on a sweatshirt.

According to the map they'd given me at the hostel, this beach route was my next destination—after passing along the shoreline, I would turn north toward Petalburg Woods, and then on to Rustboro. I didn't venture far, but I did find some tall grass where Pokémon might hide. Time to see if I could add a fourth member to my team.

D3X informed me of my odds: ZIGZAGOON 50%, WURMPLE 30%, TAILLOW 10%, WINGULL 10%. Hm. I could use another bird on my team. A bug wouldn't be bad either.

A Wurmple crept out in front of me as I was thinking. "Hotwings! **Scratch**!" I called, releasing the Torchic. He slashed out with his little talons, cutting into the Wurmple. It spat a line of silk at him in reply, slowing his movements. "**Scratch** again! Not too rough! I want to capture it!" Hotwings lunged out suddenly. I saw a jet of bluish blood fire off into the grass somewhere, and the Wurmple fell over.

And stopped moving.

And bled. And bled. And bled, slowly staining the earth with its black fluid.

Hotwings stared up at me as I gaped in horror. "What… what did you… what did you do?" I said. I felt myself beginning to cry. "What did you do, Hotwings?"

Hotwings said, "Chic?"

I slowly approached the fallen body of the Wurmple. This… this couldn't be happening. Had I really just ordered my Pokémon to kill this creature? This innocent little Wurmple? Maybe I could save it. Maybe it wasn't dead!

I took off my sweatshirt and used it to carefully pick up the creature. It was already beginning to grow stiff and cold, but I didn't care. I ran as fast as I could go back to the Pokémon Center, pulling my breath in ragged gasps as I struggled with the wet body in my arms.

"Please!" I shouted as I burst through the doors. "Please, help me with this!"

A nurse with long red hair and shining green eyes hurried up to meet me, worry on her face. "Oh! Poor thing! Here." She took the blood-soaked sweatshirt from my arms and rushed it away to the back somewhere.

I sat on a bench in the front lobby, staring at nothing. I waited fifteen minutes. Over and over, the image of Hotwings's talon gliding upward and severing the Wurmple's flesh played in my head.

After what felt like an eternity, the nurse came out again. There was black blood on her once-pristine white uniform. She sat down beside me on the bench. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Lidya."

"Well Lidya… your Wurmple has died. It seems it was dead when you brought it here." She put a hand on my knee. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

I stared at the floor. "It wasn't mine."

This produced a look of shock. "It wasn't?"

"No. It was just a wild one. I was out on Route 104, and my Torchic hit it really hard, and it just started bleeding, so I…" I couldn't finish my words. There was a sob waiting my throat. I let it out. "I… I just want—I wanted t-to help it…"

"Shhh," she said, patting my back. Her hands were warm. "Shh. It's okay." She paused a moment. "How old are you, Lidya?"

"Th-th…thirteen."

"Are you a new trainer?"

"Yes."

The nurse seemed to sigh. "Listen, Lidya. Sometimes Pokémon die. That's the truth of the world. Pokémon fight each other in the wild all the time, but wild Pokémon aren't as strong as those raised by trainers like you. And sometimes our Pokémon are too strong, and they can't help it. But that's natural, Lidya. That happens with or without us, out in the grasses and forests."

I sat silently. I didn't want to think about this, but I had no choice. I knew she was right.

"C'mon kid. Let's get you something to drink." She helped me stand and walked me to her office, where I was served hot chocolate. As the nurse—her name was Taylor, I learned—measured the boiling water for my drink, I poured out my heart to her. I told her how I didn't even know what I was supposed to be doing as a trainer. How I was so scared of being on my own, of hurting Pokémon. How I thought my Dad was crazy for wanting to live away from us sometimes, how I'd never understood why he didn't teach me about Pokémon, how I didn't even _know_ anything about Pokémon. Taylor responded with kindness and sympathy.

"You should go to the Trainer's School in Rustboro," Taylor said. We were on our second cups of cocoa. "They can teach you a lot more than I can." She gave a little bow. "I'm just a nurse. I don't battle."

"Did you ever?" I asked.

"Well… when I was young, I tried it. But I was like you: the violence was too much. I couldn't even stand to watch Pokémon play-fighting. That's why I took an internship at the Pokémon Center and became a nurse."

"Could I be a nurse too?" I asked.

Taylor smiled kindly. "Oh, I misspoke. I took the internship… when I was sixteen. I'm afraid you're too young yet." After a beat, she added, "Oh, and if you were wondering, I'm twenty-three now."

"Oh," I answered dully.

Taylor said, "When you're a bit older, you can try for it and see what happens." She stood, and I could sense that it was time to go. "I'd better get back to work. And you'd better scoot back to the hostel, kid."

I felt shy. "Thank you," I murmured as I stood up. Taylor ushered me out of the Pokémon Center. On the doorstep, she handed me a business card.

"Here's my number. Call anytime." She turned to leave, then back again. "Good luck Lidya." Her arms wrapped around me, and we hugged.

I didn't want to ever stop hugging her. We stood there beneath the glowing red letters, and I let the heat of her body sink into my skin, feeling truly safe for one flickering instant in this new and seemingly hostile province of Hoenn. But like all good things, the hug came to an end, and she left me standing there on the step.

_I don't have a phone_, I thought as I turned to go. _But I guess now I have a friend_.


	4. Schooled

**Chapter 4: Schooled**

It took me three days to finally muster up the courage to enter Petalburg Woods. I spent that time training my Pokémon in the tall grass. At first it was slow going—Hotwings was the strongest by far, and would easily knock out wild creatures with just a few strikes, but my other Pokémon struggled. Noguri and Crystal needed to be tougher if we were going to survive our journey through the woods.

So train we did. I worked with them until they were able to hold their own. After many trips to the Pokémon Center (Taylor wasn't working for two of those three days, unfortunately), I felt that we were strong enough. It was time to move on. I packed up my bag with some supplies—food and gear for myself and my Pokémon—and hit the trail.

Or would have, if it weren't for Wally.

He was a scrawny little guy, with pale skin, green hair, and dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. The kid—and I call him that knowing I myself was only thirteen—had a Zigzagoon with him, and was trying desperately to fight off a Wurmple in the tall grass on the way to Petalburg Woods. I probably wouldn't have stopped if he hadn't called out to me.

"Hey! Please, help me!" the boy wailed. His Zigzagoon wasn't doing too well. With no commands, it kept taking bites from the Wurmple, unsure how to proceed. "What do I do?"

"Order your Pokémon to **tackle**," I said, a bit uncertain myself.

The boy did so. Zigzagoon knocked the Wurmple out in one hefty strike. "Oh!" the kid gasped. "That was so scary."

I felt a little sorry for him. "Hey, it's okay."

The boy recalled his Pokémon. "What's your name? How old are you?" he asked.

"Lidya. I'm thirteen. You?"

"Wally." He smiled weakly at me. I guess I must've looked sympathetic, because he started giving me his life story, totally unprompted. "I'm eleven, and I'm going to live in Verdanturf Town with my relatives soon, so I wanted to catch a Pokémon to bring along, but I'm not very good…"

I raised an eyebrow. "Don't you have a Pokémon right there?"

"This isn't mine. I borrowed it from the new Gym Leader in Petalburg."

My heart leapt into my throat. Dad. "You… you mean Norman?"

Wally perked up. "Yeah! He lent it to me and told me I should go catch something of my own. But I can't. Maybe… maybe you could help me?"

I sighed. "Listen Wally, I…" But I couldn't do it. I couldn't say no to this sweet little guy. "I think we should go to the other side of Petalburg. It's safer there. The Pokémon aren't as strong. I caught a Surskit over there, y'know."

We chatted idly as we walked. Wally had been living in Petalburg since he was real little, but recently he'd come down with some kind of lung illness. His family thought the fresh mountain air and hot springs might do him some good, so he was being shipped off to the foothills. Too bad nobody asked Wally how he felt about it: poor boy was scared out of his mind about changing towns. He seemed scared of everything, come to think of it.

After a while we waded into the tall grass. "Now you know the rules, right? Only the first Pokémon you encounter is catchable."

Wally's eyes went wide. "What? Nobody told me that!"

"Relax. I'll help you." Moments later, a small green and white creature appeared. It purred at us curiously. A Ralts! Rare find! I was a little bit envious. "Okay Wally, just order your pet to **tackle** a few times, and then throw the Pokéball!"

Wally did as I said, and not a minute later he was jumping for joy, screaming, "I caught one! I caught one! I'm a real trainer now!"

"Hold on there," I said, patting him on the shoulder. I felt an oddly sororal attachment to Wally, suddenly. Like the kid brother I never had. "You aren't a trainer until you've been in a battle."

Wally looked crestfallen. "I'm not?"

"Well… I mean, you have a Pokémon, but you need to become friends with it. Hone its skills. That kind of thing. Or something." I was kind of running off the rails here. "Anyway Wally, congrats. Now I really gotta go. I was just leaving Petalburg."

"Oh," Wally said. "Well, good luck! And thanks Lidya. I better get this Pokémon back to Norman!"

I cringed inwardly again. Why didn't my dad want to see me? Oh well. No time to dwell-the forest awaited.

* * *

Entering Petalburg Woods for the first time, I was awestruck by the size of it. Lush cedar trees towered over me, unimaginably tall. The green brush on the ground crinkled crisply as I took my first hesitant steps across it. I removed D3X from my pack and inquired about my odds. Time to catch something.

D3X was happy to oblige: ZIGZAGOON 30%, WURMPLE 25%, SHROOMISH 15%, SILCOON 10%, CASCOON 10%, TAILLOW 5%, SLAKOTH 5%.

No sooner had I set foot in the high grass than a Wurmple came scooting out, staring at me with its big black eyes.

I was ready this time. I sent out Surskit. "Crystal, do it! **Bubble**!" Crystal ejected a thin cascade of bubbles from her mouth. The Wurmple wriggled as they struck. "Again!" Another wave. I readied a Pokéball and threw. _Click_!

I named my new companion Suzie. She munched on a leaf as I administered a potion to heal the light wounds from the bubbles.

Exploring the forest trails took hours because there were trainers along the way—and also because I took my time. I even managed to find some cool items that others had dropped—a potion here, a Pokéball there. I encountered a few more young boys, some of whom had big nets for catching bugs. I wasn't sure why they didn't just use Pokéballs—wouldn't that be easier? Regardless, they were no match for Hotwings, who'd recently learned a new trick: **ember**. A tiny puff of flame was generally more than enough to handle any insects that crossed his path.

Things were going great. I spent the night in a special place: a furnished cabin run by a kind old couple. Trainers were given their own rooms and a soft bed. There were three others staying at the lodge. They were older and looked tough, so I stayed out of their way as we all relaxed in the common room, instead choosing to recline by the fireplace and eavesdrop.

A muscular man who wore a karate uniform was talking when I began listening. "And then she was like, you know Ivysaur's vines can do a lot more than just whip, and I was like—"

"Did you hear about Steven?" a blonde beauty interrupted, changing the subject. "Some people said they saw him in Rustboro the other day. He was at Devon. That's his dad's company right?"

"Steven? You mean the League Champion?" a cool-looking male trainer asked.

"Yeah. He's a hottie!" the girl sighed. The black belt was watching them with a smile.

"Bet you wouldn't mind getting a hand on _his_ Pokéballs!" the cool trainer jeered, grinning.

'Shut _up_!" the girl howled, shoving the boy on his arm.

"Maybe he was investigating that stolen Pokémon. The one that Mr. Briney had?" the karate guy grunted.

"Could be," the boy replied. "What was its name? Peeko? Something like that. Anyway, like I was saying, she told me Ivysaur would do anything for treat, and I mean _anything_, so she got him to—"

I decided to leave. Not getting much from this conversation, and I was feeling uncomfortable. I wasn't quite sure what they were talking about anyway. Why would she want to steal Steven's Pokémon? What else _could_ you use an Ivysaur's vines for?

That night I dreamt of waterfalls.

* * *

In the morning I was on the trail again, hurrying as fast as I could go. I didn't like staying in this forest—too dark and creepy. But it seemed fate would not let me off the hook so easily. I was spotted by a trainer and forced into battle.

It wasn't a long match. Hotwings shot out flame after flame, roasting bugs left and right. But then: the youngster's Wurmple managed to evade an attack, giving it a chance to strike. It launched a poisonous stinger at Hotwings. I saw the barb drive itself through the feathers, into flesh. Hotwings retaliated with flames. The Wurmple passed out.

After the youngster stalked away, muttering about how he'd get me next time, I took a closer look at Hotwings. He wasn't doing so well. "D3X, what's happening?" I asked.

"STATUS EFFECT: POISON," D3X said mechanically. "MOVEMENT CAUSES RAPID ACTIVATION OF TOXINS. USE ANTIDOTE OR SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION IMMEDIATELY."

"Movement?" I said. "Oh no." We were almost out of the forest now. It would be just a short trek to the exit. I could even see it ahead, a glowing light from the sunshine beyond the trees. But if I attempted that route, would my Pokémon make it to the next PC? I had no idea how far I'd need to go to reach Rustboro, or who I'd meet along the way. If I encountered another trainer…

"Chiiic…" Hotwings groaned. He was wobbling on his one leg.

I picked him up. "Hang on. I'm going to save you." For a split second, the image of the dead Wurmple in my arms overlaid the bird gazing up at me. I took a deep breath and bent my knees. "Let's go."

It's fortunate that I spent so much time running around when I was a kid. My mad dash all the way back through Petalburg Woods wouldn't have been possible without the endurance I'd built up over the years. Still, as I ducked branches, hopped down cliffs, and skirted around tall brush, I kicked myself for never joining a sports team. Would a little cardio have killed me? The lack of it seemed to be killing Hotwings!

He let out pitiful little chirps, and I could see the poison in him now as it discolored his beak and eyes. "Hold tight little guy," I whispered, panting. "I've got just the thing." I reached into my bag as I ran and extracted a potion. It was the only one I had left. Would it be enough to keep him alive until I reached the Center? It had to be! It just had to!

And it was. I reached the PC, staggered to the counter, placed the nearly unconscious Pokémon on it, and collapsed to the floor, panting. My world wobbled like I was beneath cascading waves. Darkness enveloped me.

* * *

Waking up on the couch an unknown amount of time later, my first word was, "Hotwings!" Taylor was sitting beside me.

"Shh, it's okay. He's fine." She smiled benevolently and informed me that Hotwings had only been ten minutes from death when I arrived. If I hadn't run the entire way—seven kilometers, to be exact—he wouldn't have made it. Then she released Hotwings from his ball, and there he was, good as new!

I, on the other hand, was exhausted. Time for another night in the hostel.

After my scare and subsequent marathon, I vowed not to be caught off-guard again. A quick trip to the Pokémon Mart netted me a healthy supply of potions, antidotes, and burn heals—just in case.

It took me another long day of hiking to reach the other side of the forest. There were some battles along the way, but fortunately none of my Pokémon felt the toxic stinger again. Even more fortunately, I got to experience something strange and new: evolution.

It happened after a battle with a wild Nincada. Suzie had just performed admirably, and as I lavished her with praise, her body began to glow. I stepped back. Stared. Listened as a dull whine fill the air, and the shining light grew brighter and brighter until I couldn't even look anymore. When at last the process ended, Wurmple was gone. In her place sat a puffy ball of silk with one eye peeking out at me. A Silkoon! D3X informed me that soon my new Silkoon would become a Beautifly. I could hardly wait.

I stayed at the lodge again that night to get a fresh start, and finally reached the rest of Route 104 around nine in the morning. The remainder of the Route consisted of a bridge that wove its way across a small lake. Standing right in the center were two young twin girls. And they looked mean. I hesitated, but what else could I do? I had to get across the lake. I could actually see Rustboro on the horizon. Do or die. Hopefully not literally.

"We're an inseparable duo!" one of the girls said as I stepped up. "And we only fight double battles!"

"Double?" I stammered. "What is _that_?" Great. Something else to deal with.

"Two Pokémon at once!" the girls cried, sending out their Lotad and Seedot. A water type and a… seed… type? Hm. Well, I had no choice but to engage.

"Hotwings! Suzie!" Hotwings would be my striker, while Suzie could soak up some of the damage. The battle ensued.

Speaking now as my sixteen-year-old self, let me just say this: double battles are _stupid_. They're a crutch for trainers whose Pokémon are too weak to stand alone. They're messy, extravagant, and totally unnecessary. Sure, it opens up an opportunity for a few interesting combos, but on the whole it's just chaos with pretty wrapping paper.

Thankfully, this first double battle went quite well. So well, in fact, that afterward my Silcoon evolved again. Suzie emerged from her cocoon with wings gleaming in the sun, their red and blue pattern dazzling to behold. Even the twins congratulated me on the wonderful splendor of my bug-type. I let Suzie fly along beside me as we made the rest of the trek to Rustboro.

Rustboro was a pretty average town, but having come from Petalburg, I was in awe at the size of it. The towering, monolithic Devon Company facility was the centerpiece of the city. I located the PC, the Mart, the trainer hostel, and something that sent a shiver of fear down my spine: the Gym.

_Rustboro Gym_ the sign read _Leader: Roxanne. The rock-loving honor student_. Except someone had used a Sharpie to add a leg to the bottom of the _r_, turning it into a _c_. The innuendo was lost on my mostly innocent thirteen-year-old self.

Honor student? Is that all it took to be a Gym Leader? Where was she even a stu- oh. There, at the two-story white building with the chipped paint that sat just beside the Devon complex. The Pokémon Trainer's School. Taylor had suggested I study at one of these academies, and the gym leader appeared to be either a current student or an alumnus.

I cautiously approached and entered, finding a lone woman at the front desk. "Can I help you?" she asked politely.

"I'd like to take some, uh, classes," I said unsteadily. She passed me a few forms, and filled me in on my options.

I could preview a single class for free to see if I wanted to join. After that, I could either attend a four-week program with multiple classes each day, or spread out the coursework over three months of night classes. All Pokémon necessary for showing me what I needed to know would be provided—I wouldn't need to bring my own.

I sat in on the class that was starting just after I arrived. It happened to be the last week of a four-week program, so the students were just about finished with their work.

The class was… pretty cool. The teacher and her twelve students of various ages were reviewing status effects, specifically burns and paralysis. Most of the information was new to me, and I felt like I came out of there with a lot more knowledge than I had going in.

I signed up for the four-week program immediately. Better to get it all done quickly than drag it out, and I didn't have much else to do in the meantime. I'd only need to wait until the following Monday to start. The price tag was a bit steep—I'd be eating ramen for the duration of my studies, and could only afford a bed in the shared dorm at the hostel, rather than in a private room. But it'd have to do. This was important!

Signing on the line turned out to be yet another on a long list of mistakes I'd make during my journey.

It wasn't that the class was bad, exactly. But the teachers rarely let us use Pokémon for any of the discussions, even when doing so would've been highly beneficial. A study of Pokémon types had us looking at pictures in a book, rather than observing live Pokémon. Classes on attacks, defense, and strategy all revolved around hypothetical battles rather than actual ones. On the rare occasion when we actually were allowed to take the school's Pokémon for a spin, our actions were closely monitored. The fights were all staged. Nothing happened that wasn't carefully controlled. I suppose I can understand why this would be the case—the school wanted to avoid any potential harm to its students and Pokémon, be it physical or mental. But even having only been a trainer for a few weeks, I already felt like I knew more about battling than the teachers could convey. I was anxious to get back to my journey, and I frequently spent time training my monsters after school.

I saw Roxanne a few times. A slender, brown-haired girl with a blue skirt and pink leggings, she would occasionally come into our classes during an activity, and all the older students would flock to chat with her. I guess she knew them from around the town? She sure seemed friendly with some of the boys, too. Perhaps, I would later reflect, the graffiti on her gym sign was an accurate observation.

* * *

When I walked out of the school four weeks later, I felt as though I'd only gotten half of what I paid for. But I was too nervous to do anything except mull the issue over. Besides, it was time to test what I'd learned. The Gym awaited.

I headed north first, to Route 116, and caught a little pink and orange Whismur. I named her Tina. Then it was back to the hostel for the night. Gym first thing in the morning.

That night I dreamt of my impending battle. Roxanne was twelve feet tall, and her Pokémon screamed with terrible rage. One by one, my companions fell before their night, their bodies mangled by the stone hands of Roxanne's creatures. I woke up with a shriek. Time to face my fear. I had a bad feeling about it.

The Gym's interior was a mess of scattered boulders and rubble. Apparently someone was taking the "rock gym" motif to its limit. Two other trainers were inside, standing stiff as statues, awaiting challengers—as was Roxanne, whom I could see at the far back of the room on a raised platform.

My first encounter was a simple one. The trainer—a boy from the school named Josh—had three Geodude, which Crystal was easily able to take down thanks to her bubble attack. The second battle, however, proved to be an ill-fated one.

I… um. So I sent out Crystal, but she was starting to get weak from the work. Not thinking, I called her back and released Suzie to finish off the foe. And I… I, uh…

God, sorry. Even thinking about it now, I… sorry.

Suzie was a flying and bug type. Both of which are weak against rock.

The Geodude hefted one of the many boulders scattered around the arena. I could only watch in horror, unable to call out, unable to even think, as the stone left the Pokémon's hand and hurtled through the air. It tore through the delicate, powdered flesh of Suzie's wing, sending her crashing to the floor with a wet thud. This wasn't possible. This wasn't supposed to happen. These battles were just for sport, right? They… she couldn't be… dying?

"Duuuude," the Geodude grunted.

I started to rush forward to my fallen Pokémon, but a slender arm extended from behind me, stopping my approach.

"No." It was Roxanne. She'd come to my side to watch the battle. "You have to leave it. Trainers cannot enter the ring while the battle is still happening." Her voice was cold and distant, as though she were observing an interesting science experiment. "Send out another."

I was so stunned that I didn't even say a word as I released Noguri. The raccoon Pokémon had a bit of a tough time against his heavily armored foe, but with persistence, we emerged victorious.

Not that I cared. As soon as the kid withdrew Geodude, I dashed to Suzie's side. She was still alive! Her broken wing was just a hollow frame, the colorful skin shredded. She'd never fly again. I picked her up and held her in my arms. "Flyyyeee," she groaned, weakly.

"Shh," I said softly. Tears began to roll down my cheeks. "Shh. It's okay now. You're safe now."

Suzie gave a little chirp. Her wide blue eyes stared into mine… then at nothing. She went limp.

As I knelt there with the dead Pokémon in my arms, Roxanne decided to rub gravel into the wound. "That was foolish, sending her out."

The boy whose Geodude had killed Suzie was standing nearby, but said nothing.

Roxanne stared down at me with disdain. "Rock types are much too hardy for your fragile bugs." Turning to go, she glanced over her shoulder and added, "Looks like you need to go back to school, little trainer."

I said nothing. All I could do was cry softly. My tears fell on the powdery skin of my fallen companion.

Killing the Wurmple was an accident, an innocent mistake on the part of an inexperienced trainer. Allowing Suzie to face a perfect counter to her types was careless and stupid. Thirteen or not, someone like me—with weeks of battles and a month of trainer school under my belt—should not have made such an error.

Suzie's blood was literally and figuratively on my hands.


	5. The Stone Badge of Courage

**Chapter 5: The Stone Badge of Courage**

It took me a few days to get over the loss of Suzie. I spent my time drifting around the town, an empty look in my eyes. I couldn't muster up the courage to pick up the phone and call Taylor to tell her what'd happened. What _I'd let_ happen.

Why hadn't Roxanne stepped in? Did it even matter to her that a Pokémon had died in her Gym? Or was this just the way things went? Why hadn't I ever seen a battle like this on TV? All the battles on the network shows were sanitized. No Pokémon ever bled. No Pokémon ever died. But out here in the real world, it seemed like the opposite was true. Every fight was mortal combat. Every defeat, a crushing blow. Every victory, a temporary respite from the next deadly duel.

I had a lot more questions than answers. Still do, I guess.

But I decided that Roxanne, while heartless in her approach, might have been right after all. I went to the trainer's school again, but this time I headed for the library. Those teachers were too slow. I needed something I could devour quickly. I'll say this: being homeschooled does turn one into an avid reader.

I sat in there for hours, studying tome after tome on strategy, tactics, and battle styles. I reviewed accounts of various fights, assessing the strengths and weaknesses of each opponent, the pros and cons of every command. Most of the combatants were Pokémon I'd never heard of, but it didn't much matter. The types and moves were what counted.

After a few days split between reading in the library and wandering aimlessly outside, I finally mustered the courage to face the Gym again. And it was with new determination that I strode through those doors. I needed to avenge my fallen comrade. I needed Suzie's death to _mean_ something.

The two trainers I'd defeated moved aside as I marched toward Roxanne. She was waiting idly on her platform, eyeing me like a taskmistress watching a slave approach the throne.

"You're back," she said calmly.

"I'm back."

"Did you learn anything since the last time you were here?"

I slipped my first Pokéball into my hand. "Enough to beat you."

Roxanne raised any eyebrow. "We'll see. Go, Geodude!" Another of the gray lumps appeared on the field. I sent out Crystal. The Geodude fell in a stream of bubbles. "Impressive," Roxanne said coolly. "But what about this? Nosepass!"

A very strange monster appeared before us. It stood on two little stumps of legs and had flat arms that hung at its sides like planks. Its black eyes stared unblinking out from above a massive orange nose. God, what a huge nose. Hence the name, I guess.

"Crystal, **bubble** again!" I ordered. The jet of bubbles washed over the foe, but… what was this? Barely a scratch? It hurt the creature, sure, but Nosepass was too hardy. _CRACK!_ The Nosepass walloped Crystal with one of his arms, sending her toppling. She got to her feet, a bit shaky. _Not again,_ I thought. _I can't take the chance_. "Crystal, return!"

Roxanne smirked at me as I contemplated which Pokémon to send out. "I told you not to bring bugs in here, kid," she said with a sneer.

"Shut up," I growled back. What was that strategy I'd read about? Ah! Of course! "Noguri!" The raccoon burst from his ball, ready to fight. "**Sand** **attack**!" Noguri brushed the loose soil on the ground with his tail and kicked it up into the foe's beady eyes. Nosepass staggered back.

Roxanne's smile faltered. "Hm. Nosepass, use **rock** **throw**." Nosepass hefted a small boulder and hurled it in the general direction of Noguri, missing widely. It was working!

"Noguri! **Sand** **attack**!" Another burst of sand. The Nosepass' little arms weren't long enough to brush the sand from its eyes. It wobbled around, trying to find its bearings. Roxanne continued ordering **rock** **throw** after **rock** **throw**, and I made Noguri pepper the enemy with **sand** **attacks**, until at last I felt satisfied that Nosepass' accuracy couldn't fall any lower.

Time for the gamble. I felt confident. "Crystal!" I shouted, recalling Noguri. "Finish him off with **bubble**!"

The little blue bug sent stream after stream of bubbles at Nosepass. Nosepass threw rocks left and right, but never even got close. It was a shutout. After a few more blows, the big-nosed brawler hit the mat. Victory was ours.

Roxanne, surprisingly, began to clap. "That was impressive!" she said genuinely. "You really did learn something." She approached me, and for the first time I saw her smile with kindness. "Congratulations Lidya. Here, you earned this." Roxanne removed a small pouch from her breast pocket and extracted a little golden rectangle from the bag. "The Stone Badge. Your first step on the road to the Pokémon League." Roxanne patted me on the shoulder. "I really am sorry about your Beautifly. But sometimes we have to learn our lessons the hard way."

I glowered, not ready to forgive. "Psh. Like you would know."

"C'mere." Roxanne led me back to the platform where she kept her "office"—a collection of papers and towers of books behind a little desk. She pulled a drawer open and took out a photograph, well-worn from many viewings. "This was one of my first Pokémon—a Butterfree." The image was of a grand blue butterfly Pokémon, with Roxanne smiling beside it. She had braces and pigtails. "Butterfree—Allison, I named her—was crushed to death by a pile of stones during a battle against an Onix." Roxanne let me look at the photo a moment longer before putting it away again. "After that day, I started using rock-type Pokémon. If I'm honest with myself, it was because I saw how fragile other types were and… I couldn't stand the thought of losing another friend."

"Wow," I said, stunned. And in that moment I realized Roxanne was not the cruel, cackling witch I'd thought her to be at all—she was direct, firm, and committed to becoming a fierce battler. She didn't tolerate excuses from herself or anyone else. And she fought with the ferocity of someone who has seen loss. Someone who has sworn to never make the same mistake again.

…or am I describing myself?

Roxanne gave me a Technical Machine as well. I had no idea how to use it, so she gave me a little walkthrough. It would teach one of my companions the move rock tomb. After another night in the hostel and breakfast with Roxanne—her treat—I headed northeast, toward the Rusturf Tunnel. Or at least what was _supposed_ to be the Rusturf Tunnel.

"Sorry! After the collapse, we've been unable to dig any further with our machines due to the presence of the Whismur," a rather gruff worker informed me on the road. "If we agitate them with the drilling, they could bring down the whole cavern. It's too risky."

As I turned to go, some weirdo in a blue pirate costume crashed headlong into me. We both toppled to the dirt.

"Sorry kid," the man grunted as he got to his feet. I saw a small package tucked under his arm, and a Pokéball in his hand. Without another word, he dashed away, into the incomplete tunnel.

"Weirdo," I grumbled, dusting myself off.

A distant shout caught my ear. Another man—this one in a beige suit—was hustling toward me. He lumbered up, clearly out of breath from his run. "Did… you see… a man… with a… blue… pirate… ban… dan… a… and…"

This was going to take forever. I cut him off: "Yes, he went in the tunnel."

The man's face twisted in worry and despair. "The tunnel! Agh, that means… he's cornered! He'll have… to fight… now." The strange man played with his fingers worriedly. "I don't have any Pokémon…"

I was intrigued. "Why do you want to fight him?"

"He stole a very important package!" the man shouted. He looked at me more closely now, as though suddenly seeing me for the first time. "Wait, you're a trainer…"

I felt a familiar pang of sympathy. This wasn't even _remotely_ my problem, but… oh, to hell with it. "I'll get your package back."

The inside of the tunnel was dirty, dim, and narrow. The air was damp and smelled of soil. I could hear distant chirps, as though birds had nested in some far-off crevice. Overhead hung sickly-yellow electric lights, buzzing slightly. Then a new sound met my ears: the panting breath of the goon. He must've hit the far end of the tunnel, where the digging had stopped.

"Whoever, you are, stay back!" the man called. "I'm warning you! I've got Pokémon!"

"So do I," I said coolly as I stepped into the lamplight. "Go, Hotwings!" The man used only one Pokémon—a Poochyena, just like the one that'd attacked Professor Birch back in Littleroot. Hotwings handled it without incident. "Now return what you stole."

Even in defeat, the man remained defiant. "You beat me in a battle, but so what? I'm still bigger than you." He stood up to his full height. "Make me."

I suddenly noticed how muscular he was. How far away we were from aid. How desperate his situation must seem right now. And I felt very, _very_ afraid.

A tiny thirteen-year-old girl facing a burly twenty-something criminal? Not good odds.

But as I shifted to take a step back, I felt something sharp in my pocket. I reached in. It was the Stone Badge. The emblem I'd earned just a day ago, proving my dedication and bravery in the face of adversity.

Roxanne wouldn't back down from this challenge. And neither would I.

"_I_ can't make you. But maybe my _friend_ can." I tried to look calm as I shakily drew a Pokéball from my belt and released Tina. The thug's eyes went wide at the sight of the little pink and orange blob. "You know what this is, don't you?" I patted her on the head. "She could bring this _whole_ tunnel down on our heads." I studied my fingernails, as if totally disinterested in my own threats. "I'd be fine, because my Zigzagoon could tunnel out, but you… hm."

"You… you wouldn't," he stammered. "You can't!"

I narrowed my stony brown eyes. "Try me."

* * *

A satisfied smile crept across my face as the thief was carted away by local police. My hands and legs were still shaking with terror and adrenaline, but I'd done it. I'd faced my fear, and won.

Turning, I handed the package to the man in the suit. He thanked me profusely. "I must give you something as a reward," he said. Thinking a moment, he told me to follow him to the Devon Company building. We walked there wordlessly.

He led me to an elevator, which we took up to the top floor. Once there, I was introduced to Devon's president, Mr. Stone. "You've done a great service for my company," the jolly old man said with a smile through his salt-and-pepper whiskers. "I want you to have this. It's a prototype of our new PokéNav." He handed me a small, roughly circular machine. "With this, you can make phone calls, look at local maps, listen to the radio, and even track information about your Pokémon."

"Thanks," I said sheepishly. "It really wasn't a big deal. Are you sure you want me to have this?"

Mr. Stone let out a hearty laugh. "Of course my dear!"

I thanked him and left Devon, still feeling a bit overwhelmed by all that had happened. Had I really fought off a goon all on my own? I felt very grown-up, all of a sudden.

Turning to face the south, I could see Petalburg Woods on the horizon, a few kilometers away. I sat down on a bench and extracted the _other_ stolen item I'd recovered from the strange criminal: a Pokéball with the word _Peeko_ written on it_. _Hm. Where had I heard that name before? Oh!

I dialed a familiar number and put the PokéNav to my ear.

"Hello, Petalburg Pokémon Center, Nurse Taylor speaking."

"Hey Tay. It's Lidya."

"Lidya! Oh, hey! Listen, I can't really talk right now, um…" There's was a man's voice in the background.

"I can call you later. Just a quick question. Do you know anyone named Mr. Briney?"


	6. The Price of Victory

**Chapter 6: The Price of Victory**

"I canna thank ya enough for bringin' back ma dear Peeko," the old man said emphatically, his voice like a weathered sail flagging in the breeze. "This li'l bird'n I've done so much tagether. I dunna what I'd do if she wer lost!"

I sipped the cup of strong black coffee he'd provided. We were sitting on the dock of his home on Petalburg Beach, looking out over the waves. His boat was tied up nearby. "When did you catch Peeko?"

Briney's eyes became just a tad misty as he recalled the moment. "Ah, it were fate fer sure. I was out on tha sea one day, many years ago. Rescued a dear little Wingull from a bit'o fishin' net she'd got 'erself caught in. Named 'er Peeko, but she flew off. I let 'er go. Next day, a big ol' storm came up. Rain all around. No sign'a port. No way ta call fer help. But then, a cry! T'were Peeko, showin' me tha way ta sail home. She stayed with me, and we've been tagether ever since."

I smiled. "That's a really nice story."

"It is, innit?" Briney smiled toothily. We chatted a bit more about Peeko. Briney asked some questions about my life as a trainer—about my Pokémon, my journey, my father the Gym Leader. When I told him I was on the road to the Pokémon League, a strange twinkle appeared in his eye. "You'll be needin' ta go ta Dewferd Town next, woncha?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. Is there a Gym there? Where is the town?"

Briney nodded sagely. "Aye. But you'll hafta cross the sea ta reach it."

I frowned. "Cross the sea? How am I supposed to do that?"

"Some trainers teach their Pokémon ta carry 'em on the water." I extracted my PokéNav from my bag and opened the map as Briney continued, "Takes about a day's worth 'o sailin'."

"I don't even have a water type Pokémon," I grumbled. Sure enough, there was Dewford, across the waters to the south. This wasn't good news.

Briney looked at me with a curious smile. "Yeah, tha's a real shame. Without a Pokémon ta carry ya, you'd need a boat and a willin' cap'n."

"Where am I supposed to find _that_?" I cried. "Ugh! Stupid Dewford!" This was all wrong. Wasn't I on the road to becoming the Champion? How would I ever get there without the badge from Dewford? I hung my head in my hands.

"Ahem." I looked up. Briney had donned a white naval officer's cap. "I might know a thing 'er two about sailin', miss."

* * *

We cruised the waves in Mr. Briney's motorboat. The waters were calm, the sun bright, the air fresh and tangy with salt. I released my Pokémon from their balls to enjoy the ride. Hotwings, my Torchic, let his feathers flap in the breeze as he sat in my lap. Crystal, the Surskit, preferred to cling to the side and dip her toes in the water. My Zigzagoon Noguri yapped happily and dashed round and round, chasing Peeko in a game. And Tina, the little Whismur who'd saved me back in Rusturf, relaxed on the bow, the air whistling through the sound-generating cavities in her ears.

I felt at ease. Confident. Worthy. Being carted around by grateful citizens whose Pokémon I'd rescued was definitely a big step up from the little homeschooled life I'd known back in Johto. I could still hardly believe how far I'd come in such a short time. It'd been just under two months since I'd left Littleroot, but I already felt a year older.

We spent one night on the boat, anchored in a quiet harbor. Mr. Briney set me up with a comfortable hammock on the deck, while he slept below. We arrived in Dewford in the late afternoon the following day. "I'll be stayin' here fer a while, Lidya," Briney explained. "If ya need a ride back ta Petalburg or on ta Slateport, just let me know!"

"I will! Thank you Mr. Briney!" I called as I made my way to the trainer hostel.

The next day I hit the Gym. The sign outside read _Leader: Brawly. A big wave in fighting._ According to a few of the other trainers I'd met at the hostel, Brawly was a laid-back surfer who spent his days on the beach, catching waves and hitting on girls. He was also a fighting-type specialist who trained his Pokémon in the rough seas to the east and in the darkness of Granite Cave to the northwest. Takes all kinds, I guess.

His gym was completely black when I walked in, and for a moment I thought it was closed. But then I noticed a small light in an alcove on the entryway wall. Approaching, I discovered a glowing sphere and a little sign which read: _Training in the darkness provides a fresh challenge. Those who wish to walk in the light must prove their worthiness through victory._ The light had a string, allowing me to wear it around my neck.

As I defeated the trainers within the Gym, the light grew brighter. The battles were intense, though. More than once the enemy concealed themselves in darkness, but it seemed my Pokémon had better night vision than I thought. After a few hours of battles and wandering in the dim light, we returned to the bright sunshine outside and hit the PC. I rested the night at the hostel, and repeated the process the next day. Trainer after trainer fell to my might.

Something interesting was happening as I battled, aside from the glowing necklace. Trainers I'd defeated continued to follow me after our battle, and they'd spectate while I fought their compatriots elsewhere in the Gym. The thing was, they seemed to be really hung up on the outcome of each match. Upon my victory, half the assembled group would cheer for me while the other half grumbled. I saw money change hands more than once. They were betting on my battles! Well, whatever. Their business, I guess.

I made a choice as I sat waiting on the bench for the healing process to finish after my second day of gym work—I needed a little more diversity on my team.

As if to answer my desire, the very next person I met offered me an opportunity.

He was a local fisher, a young man with an aged face from weeks at sea. I was walking past his home when he called me over.

"Hey kid! Do you like fishing?" he asked excitedly.

"Uh, I dunno. I've never done it."

"Oh, it's so easy! Here!" Without further explanation he shoved an old fishing rod into my hands and sent me on my way.

_Okay_, I thought. _Guess I should give it a try._ I hit the beach and cast my line. Not a minute later the water rippled beneath my bobber. Something was rising from the depths. Something _big_. Suddenly, a fin emerged. Then another. And then, in a cascading rush of water, the brilliant orange body… of a Magikarp.

I sighed. Thanks to Hoenn law, this was the only Pokémon I was allowed to catch while here in Dewford. Oh well. I managed to trap the creature, and decided to call her Ms. Splish, just to be snarky.

My next stop was the nearby cave system. Rumor had it that this was a good training spot, and I intended to be strong before I faced Brawly. Plus I wanted to catch a new Pokémon. What I ended up getting was a fair bit more.

It was dark as hell as I entered, but having just spent days working through Brawly's gym, I wasn't afraid. Seemed natural, almost, to fight in the dark now. I kept a ball at the ready, in case anything jumped out at me. And something did! A little Zubat. Well, not exactly a rare find—there were supposed to be Nosepass and Sableye in this cave—but it would have to do. I sent Tina into battle and caught the Zubat a few minutes later. I named it Count.

I was preparing to leave the cave when I heard footfalls from deeper inside. "Hello?" I called. My voice echoed round and round the walls. "Someone here?"

"Hey!" a voice called. "Yes, someone's here!" I followed the sound a short distance further into the cave, and came upon a striking figure.

He stood a head taller than me, with a slim, muscular body. He wore a deep purple three-piece suit, black cotton gloves, and a headlamp, which was slightly obscured by his disheveled silver-blue hair. "Just doing a little hunting," the man said casually.

"Hunting?"

"For gemstones. I collect them." I now noticed the tool belt around his waist, from which he drew a tiny hammer. "This cave system is a good source of unusual stones, due to its location." He shot me a winning smile.

"That's great, but, um, who are you?" I asked.

"Oh, pardon me! Where are my manners?" The man dusted off one hand on his coat and extended it toward me. "I'm Steven."

For a split second I felt as though I recognized the name. Hadn't I heard about a Steven somewhere? Wasn't he… the… but then I lost it. Right at that moment he was just some guy in a cave. Kind of a cute guy, sure—I felt my thirteen-year-old heart beat a bit faster when he smiled—but otherwise just some guy. A nobody. Like I was when I met him, right then.

"I'm Lidya Pine," I replied, shaking his hand. "So you hunt for rocks?"

"More or less. Crystals, actually," Steven replied. He studied me a moment. "You're a trainer." This wasn't a question.

"Yes."

Steven looked past me for a moment, thinking. "Wait… Lidya Pine… do you know Mr. Briney? A salty old sailor, lives up near Petalburg Woods?"

I nodded. "Heard of 'im."

Steven appeared to be lost in thought a moment. Then—and I am still sort of dumbfounded at how this whole exchange played out—a spark of recognition lit up in his eyes. "Oh! You must be the Lidya who saved Peeko!" Steven smiled again. Mmm. "I was searching for Briney's lost Pokémon myself when the news came that you'd recovered it. Tell me how you did it!"

I humbly explained the story, feeling that it was no great accomplishment. I mean, sure, I did something cool, but anyone would've done it in my place, right? Right.

When I finished, Steven said, "Well, it's an honor to meet you, Lidya."

I smiled, feeling happy. "Thanks."

"I want to give you something… hm. How about this TM?" He extracted a small disc from his jacket pocket. "I'm a trainer too—a steel type trainer. This TM has **steel wing**, a favorite move of mine."

I accepted the TM gratefully. "That's very kind of you."

"No trouble."

I was starting to feel a bit chilly, so I said, "I'd better be going."

Steven shook my hand again. "So nice to have met you. Are you by chance working on collecting gym badges? Planning to challenge the Pokémon League?"

"Heck yes," I said with a grin. "I'm gonna be the Champion one day."

At this Steven put on a cheeky smirk, which made him even more charming. "Perhaps I'll see you there, in that case."

I nodded dumbly. "Maybe! Bye Steven."

"Farewell."

And just like that I was out of the cave and back on the trail to the Pokémon center. What a kind person Steven is, I thought. But what did he mean about seeing me again at the Pokémon League? And why did his name seem so famil- oh. _Oh._ Oh _hell_ no. I stopped dead in my tracks there on the beach as I realized that I'd just met Steven Stone, _the freaking Pokémon Champion of Hoenn_. Silly little girl that I was, I'd entirely forgot about the countless times I'd watched him battle on TV. But there was no mistake. It had been him.

I sighed deeply. What a fool I must've looked.

The shame of it all got me a little downhearted. I didn't want to face Steven again, now that I knew who he was, and since he was likely staying in Dewford, I'd probably run into him again. And I needed more Pokémon—my current team, while tough to a point, was still lacking in some needed power, if the rumors about the gym leader were true.

As I trudged through the sand, feeling it slip inside my shoes and grind between my toes, I came to a decision. Enough of the beach. Enough of the caves and the darkness. Enough of the small seaside town life. I needed a change of scenery. Brawly would have to wait.

* * *

I took Mr. Briney's offer and sailed with him to Slateport, the next closest city and a major port on Hoenn's south coast. From there I could continue north to Mauville, the hub connecting numerous routes to the north, east, and west, and the site of my next gym challenge—after Brawly, of course. It took two days to sail there-much further than Dewford.

As we approached the city, I was awestruck at the sheer size of it. Buildings and ships towered over us like giants. Cranes set in the dockyard hung like menacing birds, poised to snap up the ships with their beaks. Overhead, actual birds swooped and soared, calling out _gull, gull_ in time with the clanks of the machinery. Further east I saw a gorgeous beach dotted with colorful umbrellas and sunbathers. Kids splashed in the water. Trainers battled one another on the sand. Just past the beach lay a massive open-air marketplace, with vendors aplenty.

But I hadn't come to Slateport for any of that nonsense. I was there with two goals in mind: train my team, and add to its ranks.

Mr. Briney pulled his skiff into a small public dock and let me hop off. "I'll be searchin' round the market fer a day er so, Lidya," he explained. "But if'n ya need a ride back ta Dewferd, I'll happily oblige!"

"Thanks again, cap'n!" I called cheerfully. Now, time to see what I could find. Oo, those trainers looked tough—maybe I should fight 'em?

An hour later I staggered panting and sweating into a tiny seaside cottage, hoping beyond hope to find a Pokémon healer, or better yet, a bottle of water. The scorching sun outside had done nothing to temper the ferocity of the battles I'd faced—a sailor with a Machop, a boy with a Zigzagoon, another sailor and his wingull, and a girl with some Azurill. My Pokémon and I hadn't been prepared for that onslaught. And since had neither electric nor grass types, fighting water Pokémon was a challenge.

Still, we'd made it through, and that was what mattered. I got my water and carefully navigated past the remaining trainers on the shore, headed for the Pokémon Center. It was already evening by the time I found it, so I opted to get some dinner and rest the night.

The next day I moved on to Route 110, north of Slateport. D3X, whose services I hadn't made use of in a while, seemed happy to tell me my chances: "ELECTRIKE 30%, ZIGZAGOON 20%, PLUSLE 15%, GULPIN 15%, ODDISH 10%, MINUN 2%." Hm. Three possible electric types here, as well as a grass type—any of those would help against future water battles. But there was also a fair chance of a Zigzagoon, and my faithful companion Noguri was serving me well in that regard so far.

Nothing to do but try. I entered the tall grass and encountered… a little green dog with a lightning bolt on its head. "Aw!" I said, seeing it for the first time. "What a cutie."

The cutie turned out to be rather vicious, but he calmed down once I caught him. I named him Breaker. With a new Pokémon in hand, I decided that the time was right for some intense training.

So that's what we did. Wild Pokémon after wild Pokémon fell before the combined might of my team. After another day's effort, I'd managed to push everyone's power to the next level. My team now consisted of Tina, Crystal, Hotwings (a fire chick no more—he'd evolved into a full-fledged fire chicken), Noguri, Count, and Breaker. We were ready.

I found Briney relaxing on the beach near the dock. "Ready ta head back?" he asked when he saw me.

"Yes, please." We climbed aboard and set sail.

"Brawly," I muttered, "Prepare yourself."

* * *

The Gym was as dark as ever, but as I clutched the light orb, it seemed to recognize me, and lit up to full illumination. I could scarcely look at it without green and purple spots appearing before my eyes. Time to take on the leader.

He was waiting in the back of the Gym. As I approached, Brawly—a muscular hottie—spoke: "Greetings, trainer. You've come for a battle?" A gang of his cronies appeared from the darkness. I saw recognition in their eyes. One among them began collecting bets, not even bothering to hide his actions this time.

I nodded, ignoring the gambling going on all around me. "Yup."

"Are you ready to face the thrashing of a lifetime?" Brawly said with a grin, removing a Pokéball from his vest. I overheard some of the wagers—there was a lot of money riding on this fight!

"Let's just do this," I growled back. "Hotwings!"

"Machop!" A little gray humanoid appeared, its tiny muscles bulging. The two traded blows. Hotwings launched puff after puff of fire, scorching the Machop on its arms and legs. In the darkness of the gym, the flames lit the arena with an orange luminescence. The Machop, in turn, thrust its fists into Hotwings. Each blow resulted in a dull thud and a puff of feathers flying off. I began to sweat. Would Hotwings be able to pull through?

Yes, he would. The Machop toppled, exhausted. Hotwings stood over the fallen foe, poised for a killing strike. I could order him to lash out with his beak and slay the Machop. It would be so easy, so quick… and it would teach Brawly a lesson he'd never forget. I looked up. I could see Brawly's eyes—firm. His knuckles, however, were clenched white. Waiting.

But that wasn't how I did things. I called, "Hotwings, return!" and pulled the bird back to his ball.

"Go, Makuhita!" Brawly shouted, sounding relieved. A huge, hulking beast of a Pokémon appeared on the field. It was round, pudgy, and yellow in color, with a little tuft of black hair and two gigantic black lumps where its fists should be.

I knew Hotwings was too frail to handle more than a punch or two from those massive ham-hands. Time to break out a tried-and-true strategy. "Noguri, go! **Sand attack**!"

I was taking a big risk. Normal types like Noguri were particularly vulnerable to Fighting types like Makuhita. Two or three punches were all it would take. One if it were a critical hit. Still, I knew this was the only way forward—without blinding the enemy, my frail creatures stood little chance of success.

The Makuhita reared back. I could see the grains of sand littering its face. Noguri danced around, flitting in and out of the shadows throwing burst after burst of sand, his superior speed allowing him to keep a step or two ahead of his opponent. He was hidden in the blackness, and Makuhita was swinging blind.

But even a shot in the dark strikes true on occasion.

There was a sickening crunch as Makuhita's fist connected with Noguri's stomach. "Noguri!" I shrieked. Blood popped from the Pokémon's mouth. He spun away from the impact and crashed to the floor, lifeless and still. A trickle of red began to run from his open jaw.

"Makuhita," Brawly said calmly. "Step back." Makuhita did so. "Give your foe his due respect." The creature bowed, albeit in the wrong direction. Still had all that sand in its eyes.

I bit back the tears I could feel boiling up. This couldn't be happening. Another Pokémon lost? An image of that boulder hurtling through the air, moments before ripping Suzie's wing in half, rushed through my head. Now it would be joined with the sound of Noguri's ribs cracking.

"Hotwings," I said softly, summoning the Fire type. "Finish this. Make his death mean something."

Hotwings leapt immediately into the fray with Makuhita. Fists flew and claws struck. "**Ember**!" Hotwings let out a burst of flame, scorching the foe. But still the fighter came, swinging just inches away, sometimes connecting.

Makuhita's blindness proved to be the lynchpin of our victory. Hotwings was looking pretty beat up, with bruises and bloody feathers visible. Makuhita pulled back a fist for one more punch… and missed. Hotwings was there, ready, with a ferocious **peck**. Makuhita fell to the floor, knocked out.

"Return," Brawly said, and the Makuhita was recalled. "Well done Lidya."

I brought Hotwings back to his ball and rushed to the fallen body of Noguri. "Oh, Noguri," I said, hot tears on my cheeks. "I'm… I'm so sorry." Despite all my promises to myself and to my Pokémon, I'd let it happen again. A single blow had felled yet another of my teammates, my companions. And for what? So I could walk away with a tiny piece of metal as a trophy? So I could take one step toward my goal of the League? Was that dream worth Noguri's _life_?

Brawly had come up to my side as I knelt there crying. "Listen, kid. I'm sorry about what happened. But you must understand that this is the way things are in the world of battling. Sometimes Pokémon die." He sounded uncomfortable, like he'd only heard this information second-hand and wasn't sure it was true.

"You don't think I know that?!" I screamed. Fresh sobs held my tongue.

Brawly looked away, then back. "I'll have someone prepare your Pokémon for burial. In the meantime, here. You've earned this." He held out a badge and a TM. I took them reluctantly, and stood. Brawly waited, looking awkward. Finally he said, "Aren't you glad you won?"

I looked back at him with red eyes. "Did I?"


	7. Not My Problem

**Chapter 7: Not My Problem**

Our return to Slateport was less than triumphant. I still couldn't believe I'd lost Noguri. His life, stolen in an instant because of _me_. Because of my need to win. If I'd just trained more before facing Brawly…

"You made the right call," Taylor reassured me over the phone as I crossed the sun-soaked beach, heading for the hostel. "Even if you'd trained more, without a psychic or flying type you were still at a disadvantage."

"But I didn't have to battle him at all!" I replied. I felt like crying, and almost did.

Taylor said, "Well, yes, that's true, strictly speaking. But you're a trainer. That's what trainers do: they battle."

"Why does it have to be this way?"

I heard Taylor sigh. "The mantle of a trainer is a heavy one, Lidya. You can always quit if it gets too heavy… but I know you won't."

I felt a little shocked. Was she calling me a coward? "You think I'm not brave enough to quit?"

"Listen to yourself," Taylor said gently. "Of course you are. What I mean is, you're not going to quit because you're fighting for something bigger than yourself. Because you're strong enough to endure the losses. And because you're _waaay_ too stubborn to give up now." I could hear her laughter through the phone.

Her mirth made me feel better too. "Yeah, yeah. Okay. You're right."

"So when will you be back in town? I miss you, kid."

"Dunno. I can't really get there easily from Slateport."

"Don't worry about it. I'll see you when I see you."

"Yeah. Hey, hang on a sec…" Some commotion was happening up ahead. I held my hand over the phone as I asked a nearby stranger, "What's going on?"

"Not sure," he said. "Bunch of these guys just showed up suddenly." He was gesturing toward a line of men and women in strange blue costumes, just like the one that thug I defeated in the tunnel had been wearing. They were making their way into the Oceanic Museum.

"Tay, I'll have to call you back." I hung up. This looked serious. I headed for the front doors and made my way inside.

Within the Museum, a swarm of goons were hanging around one of the office doors, looking shifty. I swallowed my nerves and approached.

"Beat it punk. Team Aqua is in charge here," one of them said. He had arm muscles bigger than my legs.

That ruffled my feathers. "How about _you_ beat it?" I snapped back.

The goon grinned. "You got guts kid. Run along. You don't stand a chance against me." His buddies chuckled.

Something was churning inside me: rage. "How 'bout you put your Pokémon where your mouth is?" I growled. "I don't mess around."

The thug's smile melted. "Fine by me. Prepare to lose." His friends stepped aside, crossing their arms. Waiting to see what happened.

I readied Hotwings's ball. "Lose? After what I've been through? Not likely."

He sent out a Poochyena. Hotwings kicked it until it passed out. His second Pokémon was a Zubat; Breaker took care of it with a few well-placed chomps. The Aqua grunt stared at me, jaw-dropped, stunned. His friends appeared flustered, wondering if they should step in.

"Stand aside!" I snarled.

The goon took a step to his right. I walked through the doorway.

Inside, I found a group of scientists standing in a huddle, cowering before another grunt. As I approached, the Aqua chump stepped in my way. "Who the hell let you in here?" She readied a Pokéball. "Doesn't matter. Face me!"

I decided to let Crystal get a little experience. "Go, Crystal!" The Surskit burst from her ball and landed deftly… only to be immediately bitten nearly in half! The beast the grunt had sent out was a red and blue fish with massive teeth, and its **bite** had badly injured Crystal. She was bleeding from wounds on her torso, little rivers of black blood. I gasped and recalled her.

"Heh. Weak," the grunt said.

"Hotwings!" I called, releasing the chicken. His fighting type moves made short work of the dark fish, despite a water/fire type disadvantage. I tried to appear calm as I brought him back to his ball, but inside I was screaming, hoping beyond hope that Crystal would be all right. I needed to get her healed as soon as possible.

The grunt grudgingly stepped aside. Just then I heard the sound of the door opening. "Archie!" the thug exclaimed. looking at someone over my shoulder. "I… um..."

I turned to look. The man she'd called Archie stood in the doorway. He wore a black suit with no shirt-just his bare chest peeking out-and a silver chain. On his head was a blue bandana with a skull, and he had a thin black beard and mustache. When he saw me, he smiled. I didn't like that smile.

"I came to see why it was taking so long to snatch some parts, and you simps are held up by a mere child?" he began, addressing the grunt. His voice was like a raging whirlpool. Staring at me, he continued, "I'm Team Aqua's leader, Archie. Tell me, why do you meddle in the noble affairs of Team Aqua? Pokémon, people… all life depends on the sea. So, Team Aqua is dedicated to the expansion of the sea. Don't you agree? What we are doing is a magnificent undertaking." When he saw my confused expression, his eyebrows furrowed. "Ah, fine… you're still too young. It can't be helped that you do not understand our ideals. But, if you ever oppose us again," and here he pointed a weathered finger at me, "there will be consequences! Heed my warning! Farewell!"

Archie snapped his fingers. All the grunts in the room fled to his side and followed him out, leaving me alone with the scientists.

"...well." I turned to face them. "What the heck was that about?"

"We're not sure," one of them said. "They wanted some pieces of aquatic machinery we keep here, but we didn't give them up."

"Huh," I said. "Glad I stopped by."

The lead scientist smiled. "We are too. What's your name?"

"Lidya Pine," I said as I turned and headed for the door. "Don't forget it."

* * *

I slept at the hostel that night, thinking over the events of the day. Why had I decided to intervene in that situation? It wasn't _my_ problem. Why'd I _make it_ my problem? And what would happen next?

I left town in the early morning, heading north along Route 110. This trail was wetlands. My feet made _gloop_ sounds as I trekked through mud and high grass, fending off wild Pokémon as I went. The path wove underneath a towering highway, which I learned was the Seaside Cycling Road, a special path for bikers only that connected Slateport with Mauville, my destination. Too bad I didn't have a bike. I could make it there in one day instead of two if I only had wheels.

"Lidya!" a male voice called as I rounded a bend.

"Huh?" I was shocked to hear my name.

"It's me! Brendan!" Brendan came out from behind a large patch of brush. "I thought that was you!"

"Hey!" I said, happy to see a familiar face for a change. "Oh wow, Brendan. What are you doing here?"

"Training, obviously! Just on my way to Slateport for some supplies before hitting the beach. I hear there are lots of trainers there. You?"

"Off to Mauville Gym as well." I paused. "How did you get here?"

Brendan cocked his head to one side. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, how did you get to Route 110? The trail from Rustboro is closed. The only way around is south through Dewford."

Brendan shrugged. "I dunno. Does it matter?"

I gaped at him. What was his deal? Why was he being evasive? "Yeah, it kinda does actually. I had to go all the way around the southern routes to get here, and you come waltzing down from the north like it's no big deal."

He chuckled. "Whatever Lidya. Don't worry about it!" His expression betrayed his true feelings: he was looking at me like I was insane.

Maybe I was insane. But how could he have gotten here? Why wouldn't he tell me? "Oh, fine. Well, anyway, it was cool running into you. Have fun in Slate-"

"Whoa whoa whoa! What, you think you can just walk away?" Brendan's tone had turned serious. He narrowed his eyes at me, and for the first time I could remember, I felt afraid of him.

"What do you mean?"

"We have to battle!" he exclaimed. "Two trainers meet on the road. That's what happens. You know how it works!" He took a few steps back, offering the space we'd been standing in as our arena. "C'mon, show me how you've been training those Pokémon!"

Battle ensued. Much to my surprise, Brendan's Pokémon were… weak. Unfocused. His first assault came in the form of a Shroomish, a little tan and green mushroom cap that sprinkled paralyzing powder. I used Count's **gust** ability to make short work of it. Next came a Numel, a little yellow lump with a hole in its back where magma spilled out. My faithful Crystal, having recovered from her harrowing battle the day before, handled the hotshot easily with **bubble**. Brendan gritted his teeth as he threw his third and final ball, containing Marshtomp. I'll admit this: I got cocky. I let Hotwings fight, despite the danger of water. He was much stronger than his foe anyway, and was never at risk.

When it was over, Brendan fell to one knee. "I can't believe you bested me," he said hollowly.

"Don't beat yourself up about it. Besides, _you _wanted to battle, not me."

"But you're a _girl_."

His unexpected prejudice, while not as intolerable as it might've been, still struck me hard. "And what does _that_ have to do with anything?"

Brendan rose, brushing the brown mud from his black pants. "Never mind. Here." He shoved some coins into my hand and walked past me.

"Hey," I called.

The boy turned. "What?"

"It was nice to see you. Enjoy your time in Slateport-it's a pretty cool city."

"Right-o." He left without another word.

Poor Brendan. Beaten by a girl. I smiled, feeling satisfied that I'd shown him how tough a _girl_ could be.

* * *

I reached Mauville the following afternoon. Brendan must've gotten a really early start to meet me where he had. The town was small, much smaller than Slateport by far. One building caught my eye right away. It was festooned with flashing neon lights and glowing signs, one of which read _Mauville Game Corner_. I spotted the PC and hostel, and made my way over to heal up and check in. Afterward, I started exploring a little more. The Gym was hidden away behind the Game Corner; when I found it, I noticed a massive bundle of power cables running from the Gym to the casino. Was the Gym... powering the Game Corner? I checked the sign out front. _Mauville Gym. Leader: Wattson, the cheerfully electrifying man_. Hm. Not much help there.

Heading back to the main road, I was once again caught off guard by someone calling my name.

"Lidya!"

I turned to see a familiar small, scrawny boy. "Wally?" There was a grown-up with him as well. "What are you doing here?"

"My uncle and I came into town today to see about getting me a bike!" Wally said excitedly.

I couldn't help but smile. "Good to see you Wally." He still looked so fresh and innocent. I realized then how much I'd changed in the last month since we'd met. How much I'd been through. Had Wally been training as well?

I was about to find out. "Wanna battle?" he asked eagerly.

"Oh, uh, no… Wally, I shouldn't."

Wally's uncle stuck his nose in. "Please miss, won't you battle Wally? He's been so anxious to fight a trainer instead of wilds."

"You haven't fought any other trainers yet?"

"No," Wally said. "Not yet. But I'm about to! C'mon!" He had his Pokéball in hand, ready to throw. "Fight me!" He looked so eager and excited.

I sighed again, deeper this time. "If that's what you want. Count!" I knew Count's dark type **bite** attack would be strong against Wally's only Pokémon. And sure enough, it was. The blue bat fluttered wildly around the Ralts, gnashing teeth on display. Ralts launched a psychic attack, stunning Count, but Count retaliated with a vicious chomp. It was over fast-Ralts was no match.

Wally stared in horror at his fallen Ralts as it lay there, too winded to stand up. I recalled Count and tried to shrink away to nothing. Why had he wanted me to fight him? Didn't he realize I had two badges now? Couldn't he see I was stronger than him?

"Th-th-th-thanks Lidya," Wally stammered. "For the battle."

"Listen, Wally..." I started.

"No, no. Don't apologize." Wally was biting back tears. "I see now that I'm weak. But I won't always be weak." He clenched his hands into fists. "I'm going to train and train and someday I'll be the strongest trainer in all of Hoenn!" His gaze was steady as he stared at me, as if challenging me to disagree.

I nodded slowly. "I… I should go. You should get on with your errand."

Wally said, "Good to see you again. And thank you. Really! You showed me that I have a lot to do before I'm a real trainer."

I closed my eyes. "I hope I showed you that being a trainer is not always easy. And you don't always win."

He appeared not to have heard me. "See you later Lidya!" Wally called, walking away with his uncle.

I watched them go. In a rare moment of mature thought, I realized I'd just taken from Wally what my two months with Pokémon had taken from me.

Innocence.


	8. I Hate Mauville

**Chapter 8: I Hate Mauville**

Losing Crystal further cemented my resolve not to remain a weakling. It happened by accident: a lucky critical strike from some random chump on Route 117. Punk didn't realize his Poochyena had killed her even when one of her legs tore off in its teeth. As his monster licked the black blood from its lips, the Pokémon Breeder I was battling finally grasped what had occurred. He gaped at the carnage, shocked at what his beloved pet had done.

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry," he kept repeating. As if that would help.

I felt only an icy numbness gripping my heart, as though there were nothing to squeeze from it but drops of frozen blood. Crystal was dead. Three down. I gathered up the dismembered remains after the battle, carefully arranging them in a towel. The Breeder—Isaac, he said his name was—nervously handed me some cash, as a reward for my victory.

I threw it on the ground and walked away without a word.

My head was filling with black smoke. I needed to get out of the sunlight, out of the line of fire. Just for a bit.

I spent the entirety of the next day in my private room at the hostel, alternating between crying, eating candy, and wishing I could go home. I called Taylor in the evening, hoping perhaps she could comfort me. But there was no answer. Where could she be? Oh well.

The following day, I finally mustered the courage to go outside again. Something had changed inside me in my day of seclusion. Somehow, I knew I had emerged stronger than before from the darkness of my sorrow. I could feel determination beating like a tribal rhythm within my veins.

_If I'm going to become the Champion, I'll need some stronger Pokémon_, I decided. _First step is replacing Crystal_. I ignored the heartache that came with that thought. My team of the moment included Hotwings the Combusken, Count the Golbat, Breaker the Electrike, Ms. Splish the Magikarp, and Tina the Whismur. Crystal had been filling my water-type niche, but Ms. Splish could do that well enough, I reasoned.

I consulted D3X regarding Route 117, on which I had yet to catch anything. "ZIGZAGOON 30%, ROSELIA 30%, ILLUMISE 18%, ODDISH 10%, MARILL 10%, SURSKIT 1%, VOLBEAT 1%," the computer happily informed me. _Could use a grass type_, I thought.

Fortune finally smiled on me, as the first thing I encountered was a petite Roselia, looking slightly bewildered. I weakened her a bit with Count, then captured her. Welcome to the team, Juliet.

Training was next on my list. No more moments of weakness. No more being outpaced by random trainers. I wanted every Gym to be a cakewalk from here forward. So we trained, and trained, and trained. For a week and a half we did nothing but fight trainers and wilds, every battle teaching us more and more. My team began to gel as a whole; I could sense their unity as they covered for each other.

Two evolutions occurred as we worked. The first was Ms. Splish, who finally leeched enough experience and confidence from her teammates to undergo a drastic transformation into the mighty Gyarados, a great hulking blue behemoth that stood a few heads taller and many heads longer than I. She was still fiercely loyal, but now had the ability to defend herself expertly.

The other evolution was Count. A bit unexpected, that one—even D3X didn't have information on that stage of development. We were enjoying a picnic after yet another long morning of training. I tossed a snack his way, and he snatched it out of the air as usual. But then suddenly he began to glow, and for a moment I worried I'd poisoned him, but no, instead he burst from his ball of light in a new form: pale purple, with four wings instead of two. Count the Crobat. We were getting stronger.

Wattson's Gym, that electric boogaloo, was next on my list.

* * *

Despite the lack of ground types on my team, pushing through the gym was cake. The only barrier was literally a barrier: electric fences barred the path until I defeated enough trainers to find the switches. Once the way was clear, I healed up my Pokémon and prepared for the fight.

He wasn't even looking when I strode onto his platform. "Oh? Now what are you doing here?" the man asked, finally glancing up from some gadget he was tinkering with. Wattson was a chubby little fellow, with yellow hammer pants, a brown air force jacket, and a bushy white beard. His laugh was contagious… and a bit creepy.

"I'm here for a battle," I said calmly.

"What's that? You say you've gotten past all my rigged doors? Wa ha ha ha! Now, that _is_ amusing!" He chuckled for a bit longer than seemed appropriate. I felt perplexed. What was funny about that? "Then I, Wattson, the Leader of Mauville Gym, shall electrify you!"

"Now we're talking," I said, readying a ball.

His first Pokémon was Magnemite, a steel and electric type. I'd done my homework. "Go, Hotwings! **Ember**!"

The magnetic beast fell in just two rounds.

"Voltorb!" Wattson called. He threw what appeared to be a Pokéball into the field. It… just sat there.

"Um," I said. "That's a Pokémon?" But then the thing turned on its own, revealing a pair of very angry eyes with very angry eyebrows. "What. The. Heck," I groaned. Despite never having seen a Voltorb before, I knew from my reading that they were notorious for sound-based attacks, such as **supersonic** and **sonic boom**. "Tina! Take care of this!"

The little Whismur popped onto the scene, chirping, eager to please. I sent her in for a **pound** attack.

Voltorb, sure enough, attempted **supersonic**. A screeching whine filled my ears, but Tina held through it, unaffected thanks to her Soundproof ability. "Tina! Again!" Another **pound**. The Voltorb wobbled unsteadily.

Wattson smirked. "Oh kid. You've still got a lot to learn."

"What do you-"

"Voltorb! **Self-destruct**!"

I gaped, unable to tear my eyes away as the Voltorb began to glow, first orange, then red, then white. "Are you _insane_?" I screamed. "Your Voltorb will _die_!"

Wattson laughed as though I'd said the funniest thing ever. "Ha ha ha! I have over thirty of them! I can _spare_ one!" He shot me a huge, mad grin.

_This can't be happening_, I thought. _This is crazy_. I stared, horrified, as the ball rumbled, shrieked, shook, and glowed hotter and hotter, its energy radiating out in waves of heat, and Tina turned to look at me, blinking her little black eyes, and now I was unable to bear the heat and light; I put up my hands, and between my fingers I saw Tina, my brave, sweet little Tina, do a heroic thing, diving atop the enemy, protecting me, her trainer. Her friend.

The Voltorb exploded.

I stumbled backwards from the shockwave, its rumble causing my ears to ring. Tina's body was mostly incinerated, and what few pieces survived the blast flew across the gym and hit the wall, blackening it with their soot. All that was left of the two combatants was a charred dent in the floor-which, I now noticed, was not the only such mark on the Gym Leader's platform.

I was overrun with emotion. "You sick old _creep_! What the hell is _wrong _with you?!"

Wattson just laughed. "Send out another!"

Now I knew why all the trainers I'd faced in here seemed oddly passive and placating-if they spent most of their time with this lunatic, they'd have to be. He was a madman.

"Fine!" I unleashed Hotwings against Wattson's Magneton. The trio of Magnemites, fused together by evolution, whirled and spun. But they were no match for **ember**. Hotwings made quick work of the foe.

As Magneton fell and shut its eyes, too tired to continue, I briefly contemplated giving Hotwings the order to kill. One kick-steel types were weak to fighting, too-was all it would take. Wattson had stolen away one of my Pokémon. Wouldn't it be fair to steal one of his?

_No, Lidya_, a part of me said. _That's not how you do things. What would Taylor think? What would Mom think? You're better than that._

I clenched my teeth. "Hotwings… return."

Wattson let out a massive guffaw. "Fine! I lost! You ended up giving me quite a thrill. Take this Dynamo Badge." He offered me a small golden badge shaped like coiled wire, as well as a TM. "The technical machine is for Shock Wave, a powerful electric move. Oh, and here." He handed me another disc, this one slightly different in shape and color. "An HM, for **rock smash**." Wattson stood there grinning stupidly at me as I waited for him to add more.

When he didn't, I finally said, "You're a freak," and left.

Well, great. Now Tina was dead too. Mauville just wasn't my town. But for some reason, I didn't feel as bad as I had with Crystal and the others. Tina's sacrifice probably saved me from getting hurt by the explosion. And although it still pained me to know that she was gone, the fact that it was Wattson's twisted mind that had caused her death-rather than some mistake on my part-was a comfort. And perhaps I was becoming more sturdy. Less shaken up by losses.

With the Dynamo Badge in hand, I was authorized to use the move **rock smash** outside of combat. And boy was I ready to get the heck out of Mauville. Before leaving town the next day, I poked my head into the local bike shop, just to see.

"Well howdy there, kiddo!" the cheerful shopkeep said. "Name's Rydel. What's yours?"

"Lidya Pine," I murmured, still feeling gloomy.

His eyes seemed to light up. "Yer dad's a gym leader, right? Over in Petalburg?"

Geez, did everyone know my family here? "Yeah."

"Well, I've got ta treat Norman's daughter right." He gestured at the rows of gleaming new bicycles lined up like soldiers along one wall. "Pick any bike ya like. On the house."

I stared at him. "You serious?"

"Definitely! Norman has helped me out in the past; it's only fair I return the favor fer his kid."

"Well, okay. Thanks!" I chose a nice purple five-speed. It had a system of attached bags that could carry all my gear, and most hostels had bike racks. Rydell hooked me up with a lock and helmet as well; I put the lock in my bag and slipped on the helmet. I had two more stops to make before heading north, toward the next town.

First was the daycare, where I stashed a Zubat and a Whismur I'd picked up but hadn't yet used on my team. The woman assured me they'd be taken care of, and when I came back they'd be much stronger. I felt that leaving them in a place where they could play with other Pokémon was less cruel than leaving them in a computer box.

Second on my list was Verdanturf Town, which only took a day to reach on my new bike. I saw the contest hall and Wally's house-he waved from the front yard-but my true destination was the Rusturf Tunnel. During my previous visit, it hadn't been completed due to the Whismur. I wanted to know if this was how Brendan had gotten to Mauville. I entered through the Verdanturf side, and found the tunnel just as damp and musty as before. Up ahead, I could see that a very, very small opening had appeared. It was all but blocked by debris, but… a determined, skinny person could've squeezed through. Brendan must've come this way. How else could he have gotten to Mauville?

I decided to, once again, get involved in something that wasn't really my problem and finish clearing the stones. Ms. Splish was happy to learn **rock smash** and even happier to put it to use, obliterating the obstruction with ease. The tunnel was cleared.

A man in a karate outfit stood on the other side. "Oh!" he cried as Ms. Splish broke through. "Thank you, trainer!"

"No problem," I replied, unsure what the hell he was doing here.

"I've been working on getting through this space on my own so I can visit my girlfriend more easily. Thanks to you, we can be together!" He beamed at me. "Here, I want you to have this." He offered me an HM disc, for the move **strength**.

"Wow. Thanks!" I said gratefully. Helping others does have its perks.

Leaving Verdanturf the following morning, I reached Mauville that night and slept at the hostel. Then I turned my attention northward, toward Route 111. The last time I walked up here I found some massive rocks blocking the path. But I knew how to deal with those now.

"Dude!" the Geodude roared as my Gyarados smashed his home. "Duuuude!" I ordered a few strikes before throwing a Pokéball. Welcome to the team, Brad! He was a much-needed type addition: a sturdy rock and ground type. I suddenly remembered Roxanne's words: _I couldn't stand the thought of losing another friend_. The smell of Tina's charred remains flickered in my nostrils for a half-second.

The trail passed through varied terrain: first a small canyon, then west along the edge of a wide, sandstorm-ridden desert, then back east toward the towering Mt. Chimney, high above. I fought a few trainers-no one of note. My Pokémon were as tough as ever, but the loss of Tina could still be felt in each move. She'd made such a noble sacrifice. I camped a night alongside the cliffs.

While on Route 112 I picked up a Numel. Venturing through a cave beneath Mt. Chimney was a hot affair, but I emerged unscathed and made my way further north on Route 113, which ran east to west to Fallarbor Town. The air grew hot and stuffy. I began to have trouble seeing through a haze, and with a start I realized I was surrounded by ash and smoke. Was something on fire?

Something was, but I didn't need to worry. Looking skyward, I could just make out a massive plume of soot rising from Mt. Chimney. Apparently the volcano was highly active. Wonderful. Another point in Hoenn's favor. This place was just getting worse and worse.

Tromping through inches of ash on the ground and grass, I found my thoughts drifting to the events of the past few days. In less than two weeks' time I'd lost two more valuable teammates, bringing my total fallen Pokémon count to four: Suzie, Noguri, Crystal, and Tina. I felt haunted by them, as though they'd become malevolent ghosts, dogging my every step.

"Ska!" A metallic screech. I looked up from my wandering, and saw before me a strange steel bird, blade-like feathers (or was it feather-like blades?) drawn, ready for combat. D3X told me it was a Skarmory as I sent Juliet into battle. I caught it without trouble.

_Welcome aboard, Ico. Hope I don't kill you too_, I thought bitterly.


	9. A Fire Within

**Chapter 9: A Fire Within**

Fallarbor Town is a strange place. A small burg nestled cozily in a mountain valley, it boasts no Gym or really anything interesting at all, save for the pervasive cultural fascination with ash. There are trash cans specifically for ash, restaurants that serve ash-related (or even ash-containing) delicacies, souvenir shops hawking ash-themed products aplenty, and of course the never-ending rain of ash coming down from above.

I wondered how anyone could stand it. I'd had to spend the night in the ash fields before arriving, which I didn't care for at all, and this town wasn't much better.

There was one place worth mention: the Fossil Maniac's house. It had a little sign outside saying so. _Fossil Maniac: Worth mention!_ So I peeked inside. While there I met a strange long-haired man who told me he loved digging for fossils in Fallarbor's rich cliffs and implored me to keep an eye out for any in my travels. He mentioned a desert full of fossils—was that the one I'd passed a while back? Then, being slightly crazy, he said he was sorry that he didn't have any fossils to share, and gave me a TM for **dig** instead. I said goodbye as sweetly as I could.

Spending the night at the hostel amongst grubby, ash-covered trainers just like myself, I contemplated my life. I'd be fourteen in a few months. I'd lost four Pokémon in battle so far, and I was almost certain I'd lose more. It seemed inevitable, somehow. The first one was absolutely my fault-I had other Pokémon with me who could've fought, but I made a mistake, and Suzie paid for it. Losing Noguri was less of an accident and more of a risk taken. I'd needed his **sand** **attack** to clear the way for Hotwings to sweep the field, but could I have won that battle another way? Probably. Crystal's death was a fluke, one that I couldn't have predicted, and yet if I'd given her more time to train, more time on weaker foes, perhaps she'd still be alive. And the last, Tina, wasn't really my fault at all. Someone had to fight Voltorb. Someone had to take the **self-destruct **hit. If I were honest, I knew that Tina had made a sacrifice that another Pokémon would've had to make in her place.

Their shining faces and cheerful barks, yips, purrs, and squeaks rang in my memory as I fell asleep that night.

The next day I said "kiss my ash" to Fallarbor and went east on my bike, pedaling carefully across a long bridge to route 114. My first encounter there was with a Swablu-so cute! Off to the computer she went. After fighting various trainers for most of the morning and slowly navigating my way up some mountainous trails, I camped the night. The next day I continued along the rocky paths, and decided to take a picnic break near the entrance to what my map called Meteor Falls.

I munched a sandwich-ham and ash-cheese, thanks Fallarbor-and stared at the lovely hills I'd traversed to get here. But then I heard something. Shouting? For help?

_Don't get up, Lidya. Don't get involved_, I told myself. _This is not your problem_. _Eeeerrggghh!_ That dang empathy again! I had to go see what was happening.

I packed up and entered the cave. Meteor Falls was beautiful-the vast interior was a creamy yellow color, lit by some kind of radiant white light from an unseen source. A tremendous waterfall thundered down along one side. And standing below it on the trail was…

"Team Aqua!" a man in a lab coat shouted. Two grunts in their familiar blue pirate uniforms were holding something out of his reach… a briefcase?

"We're taking this!" one jeered. She socked the man in the stomach, causing him to double over.

"Ack!" he sputtered.

"Hey!" I shouted, or would have if someone else didn't shout it first. I turned and was shocked to see something even _more_ ridiculous than Team Aqua: Team _Magma_.

They wore red leg-warmers, black bottoms (pants on the men, skirts on the women), red bracers, red tunic-things with a black emblem, and adorable red hats with little black ears. A haughty-looking man in a sweeping red and black dress-shirt-thing (what the heck even was that) led a pack of them as they entered through the same cave entrance I'd used.

"Let him go," the leader said, pointing a finger at the grunts. "Or face Team Magma's wrath."

"Too slow, landlubbers! We're off to Mt. Chimney!" the goons replied, turning tail with the briefcase. A few Team Magma members gave chase, but the Aqua grunts had a good lead. They raced away through the cave.

The leader helped the scientist climb to his feet. "Professor Cozmo, are you hurt?"

"Oh," the man fumbled, "no. I mean, I'm fine."

Now the leader turned to me. "Who are you?" he barked.

I felt afraid. Time to show respect. "Sir, I'm Lidya Pine, sir. Just a trainer. I heard someone yelling and came in here."

Professor Cozmo smiled. "You came to help me? Thank you."

"Lidya Pine? Are you perhaps Norman Pine's daughter?"

_Oh for eff's sake_. "That's me, sir."

"You don't need to call me sir. My name is Maxie, and I'm in charge of Team Magma." He extended a hand, which I shook. "A pleasure."

"Likewise," I said, trying to sound cool. I felt like an idiot, and I wasn't even the one in a silly red bear costume.

"Maxie," Cozmo said, "you need to stop them. They have the meteorite."

Maxie nodded. "Mt. Chimney… so it's true then. Their plan."

"It is. They're going to try to render the volcano dormant," Cozmo said grimly.

"Wait… what? How?" I interrupted. "And what's bad about that?"

Cozmo explained, "There's a special machine they've been working on and stealing parts for which will allow them to harness the gamma radiation from the meteor and alter the geological processes of the volcano. If they stop Mt. Chimney's output, the ash rain will cease, causing famine. The ash is what makes Hoenn fertile-without it, we're a barren rock in the sea."

I understood. "So someone has to stop them."

"We're on our way," Maxie said. He turned to his troops and began giving orders. After a moment, he looked back at me. "Miss Pine. Perhaps you'd better head home. It's not safe here."

"Fine with me," I answered with a shrug. This was, as I said, not my problem. And now this whole troop of Magma dudes was going to fix things. "I'll just be on my way."

Maxie shook my hand again, as did Professor Cozmo. "It was good to meet you," Maxie said.

"Thanks for coming to help," Cozmo added.

I left the group and followed the path through Meteor Falls, soon emerging on the north end of Route 115, which connected Meteor Falls with Rustboro City. I had to use my bike to navigate some tricky sections of the trail, mostly sandy drops, which was why I'd been unable to come up here back when I first arrived in Rustboro. Even with the bike, I still had to camp a night on the trail before I reached the town the next day.

Rustboro! I felt like a different person as I wheeled my bike down the familiar main street. There was Devon Company, still as imposing as ever. Here was the little trainer school where I'd first learned the basics-mostly from books, but whatever. There was Roxanne's Gym, and there was Roxanne herself, coming out the front door! She spotted me as I walked near.

"Oh! Lidya!" she said. "What a pleasant surprise!" She gave me a quick hug. "I was just thinking about you, actually."

"It's good to see you Roxy," I said playfully.

She punched my arm and grinned. "I told you not the call me that!" Gesturing with her thumb, she added, "Wanna get dinner? I was just on my way out for a bite before the evening training session."

"Sounds great." We made our way to a local favorite that served excellent tacos. As we enjoyed a hearty meal of beans, rice, and crunchy Mexican delights, I filled Roxanne in on the last couple months of my journey. It hadn't really struck me how much I'd accomplished since I first collected that badge from her, all those weeks ago.

Roxanne, to her credit, told me that she'd been training hard since her defeat at my hands. "I didn't show it, but I felt humbled by you," Roxanne explained. "As you know, record of each Gym Leader's official battles is public, which meant everyone at the school knew you'd beat me. But you didn't stick around long enough to see the reaction."

"Reaction?"

"Well, people knew who you were after that, kind of. And after you rescued Peeko, there was even more buzz about this Lidya Pine going around town. All kinds of silly rumors too." She smirked. "You're something of a local legend in Rustboro."

Now it was my turn to feel humbled. "I'm a legend?" I said softly, blushing. "That's ridiculous."

"It's true. The school put your name on their brochure-'We trained Lidya Pine!', it says now."

"No way." This was too much. "I'm not important. Why would they do that?"

"You _are_ important Lidya. And strong too. How many badges do you have now? Three? That's no small feat."

"You're just saying that."

Roxanne's face betrayed no mockery. "I'm serious. In a way, I kind of admire you. You're brave and strong, and you don't back down. Everything you told me about your encounters with Team Aqua and the other trainers you've fought shows me that."

"Oh Roxy, you're too sweet."

She tousled my hair. "You deserve it."

We chatted all through dinner and right up until I had to bid Roxanne a fond farewell at her gym's door. I felt really happy having her as a friend-despite the age gap, she seemed to understand what I was going through. I realized she was a bit like an older sister. It felt good to think that. I'd always wanted an older sister-now between Roxanne and Taylor, it seemed as though I had two.

Taylor! I pulled out my phone as I headed for the hostel.

"Hi, this is Taylor. Leave a message after the beep. Beep! Haha, just kidding. _Beep_."

"Hey Tay, it's Lidya. Just wanted to say hi. Haven't talked to you in a few days. I'm just looking at my map now to figure out where to go next. I'm in Rustboro. Should I come see you? Call me!" I hung up and, true to my word, studied the map. Oh no. Why? Why did it have to turn out like that?

"Dangit!" I growled. My next destination, according to the map and D3X's index of gyms, was to be the gym in Lavaridge Town. And the only way there was by taking a cable car to the summit of Mt. Chimney, then traversing a long trail down into Lavaridge. Looked like I'd be spending some time at the summit after all.

_Well,_ I thought, _maybe by the time I get there, Team Magma will have taken care of Team Aqua. Yeah, how could they not? It's not like they'll be-_

* * *

"-battling all night!" the Magma agent cried, her voice just a rasp. "No matter how many we defeat, there are more Aqua troops waiting to take their place. We've been at this nonstop for days now. We have the advantage in strength, but their numbers…" She turned away from me, calling out further orders to her Pokémon.

I clutched the red cotton bandana a bit tighter over my mouth and skirted around the edge of the fight. The Magma woman's Numel was sending bursts of fire at an opposing Zubat. The ash rain was getting worse, and all about me I could hear a dull rumble, as though the earth itself were groaning in pain.

Maxie's orders were clear: find Archie and stop him. Why _I_ had to be the one to do it was still a bit murky, but Maxie's plea had been intense enough to force me into action: "Lidya, if you don't stop him, none of us can. My troops are too weak from the battles, and I'm injured." He'd gestured to a terrible wound in his ribs, which I found horrifying and disgusting. Yeah, he was definitely not in any shape to fight. "They won't give you a second look because you aren't in Magma gear. Please, Lidya! Hoenn is counting on you!"

So now I was pushing onward, dodging battle after battle as Magma and Aqua fought for control of the summit. The place was barren, with red rocks in twisted formations as far as I could make out through the never-ending haze of ash. Maxie had pointed me toward the crater at the center of the peak, and as I drew nearer I began to feel an awful heat radiating from it. The air, already thick with soot, grew thicker with the smell of sulfur and smoke.

"Hold it!" a sharp voice cried. I turned and saw an Aqua member coming toward me, Pokéball drawn. He looked different than the others: blue pants, a black bandana, and an open shirt revealing a muscular chest. Under other circumstances I might've been embarrassed in an awkward thirteen-year-old way. Right now I was just too stressed to care.

"I'm Aqua Admin Matt, and you're dead meat!" He threw the ball, unleashing a Carvanha.

"Oh, I think not!" I replied hotly. "Juliet!"

Her grass type attacks were more than enough to soak up the fish. Next was a Poochyena, which Hotwings took care of, and last another Carvanha, which Juliet eliminated with ease. Matt staggered back, defeated.

"I can't believe it," he kept muttering. "Beaten by a kid."

"I'm no kid. Now let me pass," I said sternly. Matt took a step to the side, opening a narrow pathway leading up the side of the caldera. I followed the rocky trail with a rapidly-beating heart. What awaited me at the top?

The answer was lava. Lots and lots of lava. I'd never seen lava in real life before. It was breathtaking, literally and figuratively: the bright red-orange glow was eerily mesmerizing, and the heat made me choke. The air smelt strange and thin. I could feel the waves of energy tugging at my skin as I gazed out in wonder and fear, the lake of fire bubbling and churning, agitated by the machine I could now spy ahead on the trail. Archie stood beside it, tinkering.

He hadn't noticed me yet-the sound from the volcano was too loud. I decided not to give him a chance to run. Quickly, I drew out Hotwings's ball and released him onto the stony battlefield.

"Archie!" I shouted. "Stop this!"

Archie turned suddenly. His face was first full of rage, but then seemed to soften. Perhaps he felt sorry for me, just a lone kid coming to face him, the leader of Team Aqua. "You again," he muttered. "I remember you from the museum. Now listen: Life depends on the sea. The sea is everything! Its importance is paramount!" He began gesturing wildly, a distant look in his eyes. "That's why Team Aqua is committed to expanding the sea. Doing so will result in the emergence of new Pokémon species. We will return the world back to nature for the good of Pokémon. That is Team Aqua's vision!" Archie pulled a Pokéball from his vest. "I cannot allow an ignorant child like you to get in our way. I'll show you the consequences of meddling!"

"Whatever!" I answered. "Hotwings! **Double kick**!" Hotwings used his fierce talons and powerful legs to pummel Archie's Mightyena, taking it down in a flash. Next came a Golbat. Breaker was happy to send a few thousand volts its way, bringing it down out of the sky. The final foe Archie sent was a deadly Sharpedo, a shark-like Pokémon with teeth the size of fists. Juliet, though a bit frail, was the perfect matchup, and made quick work of the predator.

Archie was panting and sweating by the end of our fight, clearly upset. "I was caught off-guard?" he spat. "No! It can't be!"

I knew what I had to do, thanks to Maxie's instructions. "Breaker," I said to my little green companion, "I want you to shock that machine, okay? Go!"

With no Pokémon to stop me, Archie could only watch dejectedly as Breaker fried the circuits of the machine, causing it to shut down. A glass dome on the top slid open, revealing a small chunk of rough, gray stone. The meteorite!

"Ah, fine," Archie said grudgingly as I stood before him. "Team Aqua will withdraw for now. But this isn't over. And next time you won't be so lucky." He took off running, calling orders on a handheld radio as he went.

I scooped the meteorite from the machine and put it in my bag. My work here was done. Once again, the day had been saved by Lidya Pine! But I didn't have much time to feel like a hero, as it was right then that the toxic brew of gases wafting from the volcano's core finally overcame my senses, and I crumpled to the hard earth, blacking out in seconds.

* * *

The details of the next part are a little fuzzy. I know that someone came and rescued me, though from Team Aqua, Team Magma, or no team at all I cannot say. The next thing I remember is part of a conversation happening in someplace warm and comfortable.

"Lidya, I can't thank you enough. Team Magma, and all of Hoenn, really owe you for what you did," Maxie was saying.

"S'nothin'," I grunted back. My head felt wobbly.

"I put my number into your PokeGear. I'll be in touch from time to time. Get some rest-you'll be taken care of here."

_Where is here_, I wondered, but before I could ask I passed out again.

When I woke up for real, I found myself in a bed in a small, warm medical suite decorated like a cozy bedroom. A nurse was nearby, and she informed me that I'd been in and out of consciousness for about a day. I was in Lavaridge Town, she said, in one of their specialty hot spring healing centers. All expenses had been paid by Maxie-I was free to stay as long as I needed to recover.

"You inhaled a lot of sulfur dioxide and carbon dioxide," she explained. "We suggest you stay here at least another two days to fully restore your lungs."

So I did. I had no complaints about being pampered, and frankly I was still a bit out of it from the effects of the gases and the medication. But in another two days' time I felt quite well, and was ready to leave. The nurse informed me that Maxie had paid for me to stay at the hot spring hotel while I was in Lavaridge, again for as long as I wished. She showed me my room: balcony overlooking the foothills of Mt. Chimney, bathtub with jets, queen-sized bed, room service... Not bad at all. Definitely a fair payment for what I'd gone through at Maxie's behest!

Lavaridge was a lovely town. Nestled high in the foothills of Mt. Chimney, it boasted a wide variety of lava-heated hot springs, which of course generated plenty of tourism traffic. There was also a Gym, which I paid a visit to right away. _Lavaridge Gym_, the sign read. _Leader: Flannery. One with a fiery passion that burns!_ Hmm. Something told me there'd be fire types waiting inside.

I was right. The Gym was, weirdly enough, a sauna. Much like the one on the third floor of the spa where I was staying, in fact, except this one was full of trainers in their underwear. It was awkward.

Seriously, the entire place was thick with steam all the time. I found myself covered in sweat after every battle. I had no idea why Flannery kept things this way, or how any of these trainers tolerated more than an hour in here.

It took me a few days to battle my way through the trainers in the Gym. I didn't want to take any chances-my team was strong, but one slip could mean disaster, and that was the last thing I wanted. Brad was my headliner: he boasted a potent moveset and a natural type advantage against the fire types I was encountering as I progressed from room to room. With his **magnitude** attack he could send a shockwave through the earth, quenching the flames in no time. Despite her water typing, Ms. Splish had yet to learn any water attacks, which I found odd and unfortunate-sure would've helped out here!

After about a week, which I'll admit I spent most of relaxing at the hotel, I'd finally cleared the way to Flannery. I approached her cautiously, sizing her up. She seemed to be doing the same to me as I appeared out of the steam.

"Welcome!" the young woman said cheerfully. She appeared to be no more than eighteen or nineteen. Her hair was brilliant red and pulled back in a ponytail that fanned out like an explosion behind her head. She wore blue pants and a black tee with a red flame design. Her midriff was bare and, I couldn't help but notice, perfectly toned. She clearly cared about fitness.

"Uh-" I started to say.

"No, wait." Flannery held up her hand. "Okay, let me try again… Puny trainer! How good to see you've made it here!" She was doing her best to bellow, but it came out forced, which made it adorable. "I have been entrusted with the… no, wait. I am Flannery, and I'm the Gym Leader here! Uh… dare not underestimate me, though I have been Leader only a short time! With skills I inherited from my grandfather, I shall, uh… demonstrate the hot moves we have honed on this land!" She paused, perhaps deciding whether to continue.

I clapped and smiled. "Nice speech."

"Thanks," she said, returning to her original cheerful tone. "You liked it?"

"Yeah. You sound pretty confident."

"So do you. What's your name?"

"Lidya Pine." I waited for the flash of recognition. It didn't come.

"Lidya… nice to meet you. Well, uh… ready for a battle?"

I slipped Brad's Pokéball off my belt. "Totally."

Flannery grinned. "Then let's go!"

Her first Pokémon was a Slugma, a little glob of molten magma with eyes. It gurgled and blurped and was pretty much gross. I sent out Brad, who'd evolved into a Graveler not too long ago. My stony champion flexed his rock muscles.

"Slugma, **sunny day**!" Slugma let out a wet roar and let loose a huge orb of glowing yellow light. The orb flew over our heads and hung there, shining down like a tiny sun.

"Brad, use **magnitude**!" I saw Flannery wince. She knew what that meant. Good. Brad reared back and slammed the ground with his fists, sending a focused shockwave through the floor into the Slugma. Slugma fell over, knocked out. One down!

Flannery's second Pokémon was… another Slugma? Well, whatever. This one used **flamethrower**, which, despite being amplified in power by the sunshine above, did little more than graze Brad's tough exterior. He pounded the floor again, and the second Slugma fell.

Her final Pokémon was a Torkoal. This flaming turtle was black and red, with a vent on its back that emitted steam and occasionally smoke. It groaned and growled like Mt. Chimney's crater, and emitted a red light from its shell. Yikes.

But we were ready. "Brad, **magnitude**!" Brad brought his fists down yet again. But what was this? The shockwave seemed to do less damage than before. Torkoal wobbled on its stubby legs, but didn't fall.

Flannery's face lit up. She had hope again. "Nice one Torkoal! Now hit him with **overheat**!"

Torkoal began to glow brighter and brighter, then let out a huge puff of fire and smoke, which flew right at Brad. Brad toppled over from the blast, rolling back and forth on his round back before coming to a stop. Torkoal, meanwhile, stood as before, puffing out little bursts of steam, but now looking less red.

I waited for Brad to get back up. And waited. And waited. He didn't get up.

He was dead.

After waiting more than a minute, I finally realized this fact, and with a cold numbness gripping my heart, I sent out Hotwings. His fire typing, while no advantage, would give him some protection from further bursts of flame. The battle wasn't long after this-a few kicks was all it took to knock out the turtle.

I calmly walked to Brad's still form. His whole front half, out of view for me from my side of the battlefield, was charred and black. So he'd taken the brunt of the flames right there. That's what did it. I gingerly picked up one of his huge stone hands. Cold. Poor, poor Brad.

Flannery looked uncomfortable. "Wow, uh… I'm sorry. I guess I was trying too hard. I… I only recently became a Gym Leader, you see, and I-"

"It's fine, Flannery," I said softly. "These things happen."

She gaped at me. "What?"

"Pokémon die. It's just part of being a trainer." I studied her now. She seemed floored by this announcement. "Have you never lost a Pokémon?"

Flannery shook her head.

I chuckled bitterly to myself. "You've got a lot to learn, kid."

* * *

Flannery gave me the Heat Badge, a TM for **overheat**, and another series of apologies. I left the Gym feeling despondent-and justifiably so. I'd lost another companion. One of my strongest. He'd been doing such a great job… but a lucky critical strike is all it takes, sometimes. For the first time I felt like my Pokémon had achieved an honorable death. Tina's demise was also not my fault, but in her case it had been a dishonorable act on Wattson's part. Here, Flannery was only trying to win the battle, just as I was. She had no intention of hurting Brad. It was just an accident. A mistake. And although Brad was dead now, I felt that he'd died honorably, with dignity. In battle. I felt, despite not knowing for sure, that it's what Brad would've wanted, being a warrior at heart.

I was so distracted by my thoughts that I nearly collided with someone coming down the path to meet me.

"Lidya!" Brendan Birch said, a bit of sneer in his voice. "Hey, it's been a while!"

"Brendan," I said, a bit uneasily. I was still shaken up from my battle with Flannery.

"How's it going?" He glanced at the line of badges pinned to my jacket. "Hmm, that's a decent collection of badges." His eyes continued down my body, then back up. He smiled. "All right then. You may as well have these." Reaching around, he shuffled through his bag for a moment before producing a pair of steampunk goggles. They had glass lenses and a leather strap, and appeared to be from a time long past. He handed them to me.

"What are these?" I asked. They felt sturdy.

"Go-goggles," was the reply. "I got a pair at a shop up in Fallarbor Town, but on the way out the shopkeep said I should take a second pair, just in case. So I have two-don't need both of 'em though."

I stowed them in my bag. "Um, thanks."

"Hey now, don't think I'm just giving you these for no reason!" Brendan said excitedly. "You can use them to go into the desert by Route 111. Plenty of rare Pokémon there." He beamed at me proudly.

"Oh, cool," I said. "Thanks!"

"Anyway, I'm considering my next move," Brendan continued, unprompted. "I think I'll go challenge Norman down in Petalburg. Unlike you, Lidya, your dad looks like he really is tough. See you around!" Without another word, Brendan turned on his heel and left.

_What the heck was that about_, I wondered. _Also, rude. I've beaten you what, three times now Brendan?_ Still, with the goggles he'd gifted me, I could now venture into the desert. I remembered hearing somewhere that it was a good place to train, and I could use another Pokémon on my team-maybe a ground type to replace Brad. Ah… and there was the melancholy again.

I checked out of the spa and headed east. The sands awaited, and though I didn't know it at the time, Fate had big plans for me once I got there.


	10. The Desert

**Chapter 10: The Desert**

The desert was vast, hot, and constantly awash in scalding, whipping sands. I knew now why Brendan had suggested the go-goggles, though what had compelled him to give them to me still remained a mystery. Did he even like me? Every time we were around each other he was always boasting and acting like a meathead. But he'd also given me this gift, out of the blue. I didn't know what to think.

I used my red cotton bandana to cover my nose and mouth as I began my journey in the desert, a day after leaving Lavaridge. D3X was thankfully sand-proof, so I asked her about my odds. "SANDSHREW 35%, TRAPINCH 35%, CACNEA 20%, BALTOY 10%," she said robotically. Three grounds and a grass. Yeah, I could dig it.

Venturing into the deep sands, I encountered my first Pokémon, the one I knew I needed to catch. It was a little yellow Sandshrew, looking at me with curious eyes. I caught her easily and named her Kim, sending her to the PC box to await my return.

Moving further east and north, I came upon a few trainers here and there. The fierce sandstorm provided a unique hazard to our battles-without clothing to protect them, every minute my Pokémon spent out of their balls was a minute of damage from the biting sands.

The battles were more of what I'd become used to by now-I utilized a type advantage to seize victory. Most of the trainers out here wielded rock or ground types because those types are immune to the sandstorm. As for me, well… I did what I could with what I had. Juliet proved the key to success-her grass attacks easily overpowered the majority of foes.

After a long day's trekking around the desert, I was wiped. Time to head back to the nearest town, which was, sadly, Mauville.

As I trekked west, skirting around the deeper sands where Pokémon lived, I noticed something strange: a large pool of sand, differently colored, with two big rocks sticking out of it. Atop the stones sat two smaller stones, each with a unique pattern. Fossils? They looked like animals of some kind, trapped by time. I cautiously approached and reached out to grab one… but then both began to sink. Quicksand! If I hurried, I might be able to snag one of the fossils, but they were too far apart to grab both.

Screw that. I wasn't about to get trapped in quicksand and die out here in the desert. I let them sink and walked away. Somewhere, far far off, the sound of the Fossil Maniac crying out in pain rang in the fading light.

I returned to Mauville that night and slept at the hostel. In the morning I sat eating a bagel and coffee, pondering my next move.

Brendan was going to face my dad in combat. He might already be there, in fact. And unfortunately, I would soon be following in his footsteps: Norman had the next badge I needed on my journey to the Pokémon League.

I stared into my mocha, thinking hard. Conflicting pressures were pushing down on me, making me want to curl up and hide. My mom wanted me to defeat my dad. My dad wanted… I didn't know. Taylor wanted me to be a great trainer, as did Roxanne. And that's what I wanted for myself, too: to be the best. To conquer the Elite Four and become the Champion. It seemed right, somehow. Yet did I have the strength necessary to fight my own father? Were my Pokémon ready? Was _I_ ready?

And what of all the ones I'd lost? Five now. Suzie, my first and greatest mistake, to a double weakness. Noguri, when I took a risk on a tactic that ensured my victory but cost a life, to an overpowering blow. Crystal, because I let a young, frail Pokémon try to stand against too tough a foe, to a critical hit. Tina, at a madman's suicidal command, to an explosion. And Brad, while engaged in honorable combat, to yet another critical strike. It was a lot to bear for so young a trainer. If I faced my father, what would become of my Pokémon?

Maybe Brendan was right. I recalled his words: _Unlike you, your dad looks like he really is tough_. I studied the people around me, going about their business comfortably, seemingly without a care. They were strong and confident. Right then, I felt neither. I'd been tested many times on my journey, but at that moment I felt like I hadn't endured enough. I needed to prepare my mind, my body, and my Pokémon for what lie ahead. I needed to _know_ I could win. And there was someplace I could go to find such a challenge. Someplace not far from here.

I finished the drink and left the cafe, aware now of what I had to do.

It was time to grind.

* * *

We went into the desert, my Pokémon and I, and stayed there for hours. I'd packed enough water and food to keep us alive, but we rested little. My pace was relentless, my attitude determined, my resolve unshakeable. We had to do what my mother asked of us. We weren't just going to beat my father: we were going to _pulverize_ him.

The hours stretched into a day. Breaker evolved, changing from green to blue. I was so exhausted after returning to Mauville that I just collapsed on my bed and slept, clothes on, no shower. The next morning I got up, washed myself clean of the previous day's grime, and headed out to do it again.

Two days became four. Four became seven-a week. A week became two. Three. Four. Six. I'd spent a month and a half in this cycle, going back and forth from Mauville to the desert every single day, training, training, training, fighting Sandshrew after Sandshrew, defeating Trapinch after Trapinch, my Pokémon now stronger than they'd ever been before, and me too, in fact.

The desert changed me. Once rather pale, I now boasted an impressive tan. Once a brunette, I now tied back dirty blonde hair into a ponytail each morning before mounting my bike. My skin grew weathered and tough. My eyes became steely. My young body, still developing, became lean and muscular. I was a creature of the sands now. I knew every rock and pitfall, every trail and trap, every grain of dust in that desert.

Only one incident stands out in my memory, which otherwise bleeds together in a long, howling series of sandstorms and battles: the day I caught a Pokémon illegally.

Yes, I know this fact is probably not one I should be revealing, but in the interest of giving you the full story, I need to share it. And frankly, what's anyone gonna do to the Pokémon Champion, huh?

It was about a week into our training-just long enough that I'd forgotten what it felt like not to be exhausted and wind-burned all the time-that I came across something I'd only heard rumors about. We were out in the deep sands as usual when I spotted a familiar burrowing pattern. I'd come to know the signs for all four Pokémon that lived here-this one was unmistakable.

"Sandshrew," I mumbled, readying Juliet. The Sandshrew burst from the earth, chittering and flexing its claws, just as they always did. But this one was different.

This one was green.

I gaped, shocked into paralysis. Could it really be? Pokémon with different coloration patterns-known as "shiny Pokémon"-were the rarest of the rare. Few trainers ever even saw one, let alone had the chance to catch such a beast.

I had to have it.

But what to do? I'd already caught a Pokémon here.

I studied the Pokédex now pinging in my hand. It was gathering data on this Sandshrew and tracking my Pokéball usage. I turned it over. There was a small panel on the back that housed the battery. If I took it out, what would happen? Would D3X sound an alarm? Was there a backup battery inside? Would someone come after me? Didn't matter. I had to try.

Wincing, I removed the battery.

The screen went dark. I was off the radar.

Working quickly, I sent out Kim, the Sandshrew I already had, knowing her claws wouldn't hurt this shiny Sandshrew too grievously. They battled for a few minutes, and then I threw a ball. Success! The shiny Sandshrew was mine.

But now I faced a new dilemma: once I restored power to D3X, she'd know I had an extra Pokémon from route 111. The Pokéballs themselves kept track. There was only one thing to do. I released Kim from her ball once more. "Thanks for everything, little lady," I said gently to her. "I'm setting you free. Go on, off you go. Into the desert."

The Sandshrew looked up at me and tilted her head. "Shrew?" she said.

"You're free. Released. Go on now." I softly nudged her with my hands, pushing her toward the deep sands. After a moment of staring at me, she seemed to get the idea, and with nary more than a quiet "Sand!" she was gone, burrowing away in the grit.

I took out the ball she'd been stored in and threw it as far as I could into the wastes.

There. Now no one would ever know.

Returning the batteries to D3X, I held my breath as the device powered up. Nothing strange happened. The screen looked just as it always had. I was in the clear… for now. My new shiny Sandshrew waited for me in the PC that night when I returned home. He was a rare gem in my collection.

I decided to call him Ruby, seeing as D3X showed me a picture of the beautiful red spines he'd grow when he evolved into a Sandslash. And something about the name seemed, oddly, a fitting tribute.


	11. Norman

**Chapter 11: Norman**

About five weeks after I caught Ruby, I finally felt ready to face my father. I checked out of the hostel, climbed astride my bike, and began pedaling west. I passed through Verdanturf, down the narrow tube that was the Rusturf tunnel, and into Rustboro. I briefly contemplated stopping to see Roxy, but decided against it. I'd only want to stay if I met with her.

The bike allowed me to cover a lot of ground quickly, but even so, the journey from Mauville to Rustboro took two days. I stopped at the trainer lodge in Petalburg Woods that night, and left the next morning.

My bike's gears clicked and spun as I pushed onward through the forest, emerging on the north end of Route 104. There was the field where Hotwings had killed that Wurmple. There was the patch where I'd met Wally. So many things had happened here. The memories were flooding into me like a spring thaw.

I crossed Route 104 and finally entered the town. It felt great to come back to Petalburg, to the familiar streets and buildings of the little hamlet. Despite the trepidation I felt at the prospect of facing my father, it was good to know I was closer to home than I'd been in… five months? Really? Time had flown.

I stopped by the PC first thing, to see Taylor.

"Lidya!" she called, looking shocked. "What are you doing here?" Her face betrayed an unexpected emotion: anxiety.

I didn't notice. "I'm here to face the Gym. I've already got four badges. I need this one in order to **surf**, and I need **surf** to get to the other gyms."

Taylor shifted from one foot to the other. "Did you tell your dad you're here?"

"No," I said. "I just got in. I wanted to see you."

Now she smiled. "Well kid, it's good to see you. Really good. Why don't you come back in an hour? I can take my break then."

I returned an hour later and Taylor and I chatted, catching up on the times. It'd been since before Flannery that I'd called her; I was so wrapped up in training that I'd totally forgotten about it. She commented on my new, hardened appearance more than once.

"You've gotten so tan…" she kept saying. "And your hair is all blondish now."

I grinned. "I know. I look like I've been at the beach."

Taylor was studying me carefully. "You know Lidya, your skin and hair aren't the only things that've changed." She kept glancing deliberately at my chest.

I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. "Oh, that. I was hoping you wouldn't notice." In the past month or so, I'd noticed a definite… increase, in certain… areas. Being only thirteen (fourteen a few weeks later) and away on my own, I was a bit uncertain how to handle the, well, it wouldn't be fair to call them a problem, but… I was thoroughly embarrassed about the whole thing.

Fortunately, Taylor once again provided calm, gentle guidance. "Sweetheart, come with me. We need to get you set up with some, ah, support."

An hour later, I bid Taylor a fond farewell and headed for the hostel, making sure to stuff the three little bras she'd helped me select as deep into my backpack as they could possibly go.

This, like so many other "firsts" on my journey to becoming Champion, was simultaneously awkward, difficult, terrifying, and a little bit exciting.

I decided not to waste any more time. Dad's gym loomed before me. What would happen when I passed through those doors? Would I find my father waiting for me there? Would he be happy to see me? And did I have what it took to beat him in battle? With a start I realized that I didn't even know what type he favored. So I read the sign at the door. _Petalburg Gym. Leader: Norman. A man in search of power!_

Not a very inviting tagline.

I stood outside for another minute, just breathing. Trying to mentally prepare myself. All those years of wanting to know about Pokémon but being denied by the man who was waiting beyond those doors… and now I would approach him not as his child, but as a challenger. This was _not_ the kind of thing an thirteen-year-old should have to deal with.

I clenched my hands into fists, exhaled loudly, and walked into the gym.

A man stood in the lobby. He was grubby, with a regal neck-beard and an "I Heart Pikachu" t-shirt. "Hey, champ-in-the-making," he said cheerfully. I looked behind me.

"Are you talking to me?" I asked.

"You bet," the man continued. "Just got a tip for ya about this gym."

"Um, okay?" I cocked my head at him. "What is it?"

"The trainers in this gym each reside in their own rooms. Each room has a theme. Choose a door," he gestured with his head at a set of two doors on the far wall, both labeled in large letters, "and you'll be facing one of them!"

"That's… helpful, I guess," I said slowly, backing away. This guy was kind of a creeper.

I chose the accuracy room. Inside stood a lone trainer atop a bamboo mat. The space was cozy, almost homey, with a low ceiling and dim lighting. I studied the young woman waiting there for me. She looked like a teenager, with green hair and a smug grin on her beautiful face. Her clothes were trendy. "Welcome to the accuracy room," she intoned as I approached. "Are you ready to see how it feels to face an enemy whose strikes land every time?"

"You know it," I said. What was the deal with these themed rooms?

'What's your name?" she asked.

"Lidya Pine."

"_The _Lidya Pine? Norman's daughter?"

I sighed. "Yes."

She seemed to relax a little. "Well, I'll let the others know you're here. You're on the level, right?"

I assumed she meant I thought myself strong enough to face the challenges ahead. "I'm on the level," I answered, trying to sound confident.

"Cool." The trainer released a Delcatty-a little orange cat with purple tufts of fur decorating its body-and waited. I chose Breaker. Cat versus dog.

But then a curious thing happened: the trainer beckoned her Pokémon to her side and administered some sort of eye drops to the creature. What the heck? Was that medicine, or… something else?

Turned out to be the latter. The Delcatty returned to the ring with horrible dilated pupils, staring at Breaker like two black spotlights. Even Breaker's lighting-fast movements didn't go unnoticed, as the Delcatty watched every move with pinpoint precision. Was this the promised "accuracy" of the room? What was going on here?

"What did you do to your Pokémon just now?" I asked.

She winked at me. "A bit of X Accuracy. Let's see how you fare against it!"

Confused, I ordered Breaker to use **thunder wave**, paralyzing the foe. Delcatty lashed back with a fierce **scratch**, but after a few rounds of **spark** from Breaker, the dog won the day.

The trainer I'd beaten gestured behind herself. "Well battled. To my left is the defense room. To the right is the recovery room." Pausing a moment, she added, "I can't wait to watch you fight your dad. This is so exciting! He kept saying that he thought you'd wind up here eventually." She was like a gushing fangirl.

I was already almost out the door, having decided to double back and go to the speed room next. "Let him know I'm on my way," I called over my shoulder.

This gym was weird.

The speed room was exactly the same in design as the accuracy room. Here a young man who looked more or less like a male version of the other trainer stood waiting. He too promised a tough battle, and he too unleashed a Delcatty. I was beginning to notice a pattern.

The pattern continued with the strange medicine. This time the trainer actually injected a substance into his Pokémon's neck. I could see a change come over the creature in seconds-it began to twitch fiercely, its eyes darting from side to side, its whole body tensed as if about to spring. I chose Breaker once more, knowing that if I could paralyze the enemy, their speed advantage would be wasted. Sure enough, the **thunder wave** and **spark** combo proved too much, even for the speed-boosted opponent.

"So, you're Lidya Pine," the trainer said cooly, putting away a small PokéNav in his pocket. "The leader's kid." Dammit, he must be sending messages to the trainers in the other rooms.

I winced. "Yeah." No need to remind me.

"Your dad is really awesome," the trainer went on. "Working here is great. He really helps us to make our Pokémon the strongest they can be, no matter the cost."

I rolled my eyes. "Uh huh."

"Anyway, you can go into one of these rooms. The defense room is on my left, and the zero reduction room is on my right."

"Right," I replied, already heading for the defense room door.

The remainder of the rooms looked the same and contained exactly the same kind of people, so I'll gloss over this part a bit. Suffice to say, my steady march through the gym only served to harden my determination.

The defense room trainer used a beige and brown ferret-like Linoone, and injected it with what she called "X Defend", causing its body to "dull pain" and "become harder", as the trainer put it. I bested the foe with Juliet's special attacks-**leech seed**, **giga drain**, and **magical leaf**.

The recovery room featured another Linoone. This time I chose Ms. Splish, whose giant body practically filled the space. The Linoone's trainer kept calling it back to his side during the battle to administer some sort of "super potion", healing its wounds and reenergizing it. Ms. Splish's raw power was enough to take it down in the end, though.

Next on my list was the one-hit KO room. I stood in trepidation outside the door, flashbacks of Suzie, Noguri, Crystal, Tina, and Brad lingering in my eyes. But I was stronger now. _We_ were stronger now. Here, the trainer did something I'd never seen before: he attached purple objects to his Zangoose's claws. "Better chance of a critical hit," he explained, smiling as though this were a perfectly normal thing to do.

Blades. They were blades. He'd given his Pokémon a weapon.

"What the hell is that?" I asked, shocked. "You can't do that!"

"It's just a dire hit! You're welcome to use one too, shortie." The trainer grinned teasingly at me.

"Whatever. I'll beat you without it," I spat. Despite the terrible danger, Hotwings was able to knock out the foe with a well-placed **double kick**, avoiding all harm. "Your father was right about you," the trainer said as he recalled his Pokémon. "You're tough."

I wasn't sure how to feel about this comment. "Thanks, I guess," I said. My dad thought I was tough? Why? He'd never seen me fight, never taught me how to battle, nothing. Where'd he get that idea? And why was he talking me up to his loyal minions here in the gym? This place was getting stranger by the second.

Being young and still somewhat naive (didn't stay that way long after Petalburg Gym, but I get ahead of myself), it took me until the attack room to finally figure out what was happening here: drugs. Performance-enhancing drugs were being used with reckless abandon. I recalled reading something about them in one of the books back at the trainer school, but I never thought I'd actually see them first-hand. Yet there could be no denying it, especially when the attack room trainer injected her Zangoose, causing its muscles to bulge unnaturally, its fur and flesh straining to contain them. I defeated it with Ruby, whose defensive spiked plating offered the best resistance to the enemy's claws.

The strength room was the same as the attack room-a muscled-up Zangoose against my shiny Sandslash. It was an easy fight.

The last room was the zero-reduction room. This trainer used a misty spray to cover his Linoone in a cloud of smoky dust. "Just try changing his stats now!" the trainer jeered. I didn't bother-Count's teeth were plenty sharp on their own.

"You really are our leader's kid, aren't you?" the guy said after I beat him. "I can see it in your eyes. That look you have."

I felt embarrassed and irritated. "I'm not my father."

"You fight like him," the man added, shrugging.

"Tell him I'll be here tomorrow afternoon," I growled. I left without another word, feeling confused. But hey, I'd done it. The Gym was clear. All that was left was one final challenge. I was sure it'd be the hardest battle of my life so far.

Because I was able to get a single room at the hostel, I let my Pokémon out to play. Count hung from the ceiling. Ms. Splish was, unfortunately, too big to let out here in the room. Juliet and Breaker were shuffling around together, while Hotwings and Ruby seemed to be chatting. I wondered if they could understand each other.

I made a quick phone call to Taylor. When she picked up, there was a strange airy quality in her voice, as though she were out of breath. "Hi. What's up?"

"Just wanted to talk."

She panted, once, twice. "Sorry, I really can't right now. Come by the center tomorrow-my shift starts at nine."

"Are you, like, at the gym or something?"

A very long pause. "Um, what do you mean?"

"Like are you working out on the treadmill or whatever? You sound like you're breathing hard."

Her voice was full of unexpected relief as she said, "Oh! Yeah, that's it. I'm working out."

I sighed, disappointed. "All right. Have fun. I'll see you tomorrow." I hung up.

Maybe it was better for me to prepare on my own tonight. Take some time to focus. As I lay on my bed in my pajamas-having decided to go for the badge first thing in the morning-my thoughts turned to the day's events.

Something was seriously off about Dad's gym. Was it the vacant expressions on the faces of the hip young trainers inside? Was it the fact that every trainer I'd battled had used some kind of performance-enhancing drug? How could that stuff even be legal?

I let out a little gasp. Of course. It wasn't. What had that first trainer said? _You're Lidya? Norman's daughter?_ She knew me, and she knew my connection. Her use of the "X Accuracy", as she'd called it, was what she meant when she asked if I were _on the level_. Would I tattle, that's what she wanted to know. She told the other trainers via their PokéNav. And everything after that: the X Speed, the X Defense, the Dire Hit, the Super Potions, all of it had to be all kinds of illegal. I knew the regulations-they were available on my Pokédex, and I'd read through them several times.

This raised a bigger and perhaps more important question: Did Dad know?

With a sick feeling in my stomach, I realized the obvious truth: of course he did. Every one of those trainers knew him, knew me, and knew that I, as his daughter, wouldn't say anything if they juiced up their Pokémon right in front of me. They assumed he'd told me all about it. Was this why he left Mom and I behind so many nights back in Johto? Was that why he'd moved us out here? Was he… protecting us? I mean, we'd always had enough money. More than enough, it seemed. Was this the source? Drugs? Did Dad sell or manufacture drugs?

Perhaps he really was doing a noble thing, then. Perhaps-and here I let my limited knowledge of crime drama take over-he'd gotten in hot water back in Johto, and rather than pay up or ice whoever was after him, he'd packed his family and changed regions. He was providing for us the best way he could.

I felt an odd pang of sympathy for my father. Despite a lot of anger, I could understand where he was coming from… assuming my hunch was correct. Which I knew it might well not be.

I fell asleep that night thinking about my impending showdown. _Be ready, Dad_. _You're next._

* * *

The sun was just peeking over the treetops as I got dressed that morning. I headed to the gym at seven, when the sign on the door said it opened. Changed my mind about waiting: I wanted to get this settled _now_. One of the cool trainers from yesterday was unlocking the door-the speed room trainer, I thought. He looked like he could use some of that speed himself: groggy, with sleep in his eyes.

"Whazzup?" he said as I pushed past him into the room.

"Looking for the leader. Is he up yet?"

The trainer blinked at me. "Uh, yeah but uh, he's probably still with-"

"Thanks," I said, not waiting for him to finish. I navigated my way through the various rooms until I stood before the door to the leader's hall. This was it. No turning back. I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

This room was much the same as the others, but larger, and here the floor was dirt, with a Pokéball design brushed into it carefully. At the back I could see another door, this one labeled _Private_ in large letters. And standing at the far end, dressed in his signature red coat and black pants, was my father. Norman. The Gym Leader.

"Lidya?" he said. "You're up early." There was no surprise in his tone.

I shrugged, wanting to appear nonchalant. In truth I was feeling a huge mix of powerful emotions: happiness at seeing my father again, anger for all the times he'd declined to tell me about Pokémon, pride at what I'd accomplished even without his help, shame at feeling so much doubt about his motives, and fear that I might not be able to beat him, or even worse, that I would easily.

"It's like you always say: there's a time and place for everything."

He smiled. "I do always say that. Have you called your mother lately?"

I felt embarrassed. "I haven't."

"Hm." He frowned. "You should call her more often. She worries."

"Do you worry?"

His face remained unchanged. "Of course."

I rubbed my arm, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I'm… here to battle you. For a badge."

My father did not smile. "I thought as much. You beat all my gym trainers yesterday. Bunch of lousy shitheads. I'll have to get some new people in here."

I winced. "They did their best. I'm just stronger than them."

"Doesn't matter. They lack the discipline I desire in a trainer."

I nodded, as if understanding. "Well, anyway…"

Dad withdrew a Pokéball from his belt. I took one from the strap at my chest. "Listen Lidya: I knew we'd end up here one day. Battling. And I want you to know…"

I held my breath.

"...I won't be holding back."

_So much for being proud of me,_ I thought. What I said was: "Breaker! Get'm!"

Norman-my father-let out a sharp yell and unleashed his first Pokémon. Despite almost fourteen years as his daughter, I had no idea what it might be. The creature that emerged shook the floor as its massive bulk landed. It looked a bit like a gorilla, with thick, hairy arms and legs, a massive tummy, and narrow eyes hidden beneath overhanging brows. Its nose was pink, and it had a white frill of fur around its neck. The beast towered over Breaker, whose small blue and yellow form seemed absolutely microscopic by comparison.

But I'd learned enough not to be intimidated by size. "Breaker! **Thunder wave**!" Breaker sent out a paralyzing field, and I saw the enemy's body go rigid. Success!

"Slaking, **focus punch**," Norman barked. Slaking twitched, fully paralyzed.

"Breaker, **spark**!" Breaker launched a bolt of electricity into the enemy. It was working! I was winning!

Norman didn't even give a command to Slaking after the first barrage. It seemed that Slaking was taking a nap. What was with this weird Pokémon? Did it even do anything?

Breaker danced and darted around, firing off another **spark**. Now Slaking began to look injured. But just as I thought we were on the way to a knockout, my dad surprised me once again: he called the Slaking to his side and administered some a potion from an unusual spray bottle, healing the creature's wounds.

"Hey!" I shrieked. "Not you too!" My heart was sinking down into my feet. This proved it: my dad was into drugs.

"A trainer must do whatever it takes to win, no matter the cost," Dad said calmly. "Potions are legal for trainer use during battle-this is simply a more effective formula. A Super Potion."

I blinked. That… well, that was true… but still! "Hmph," I grunted. "Just keep fighting me."

"As you wish." Slaking returned to the field, its health restored. I noticed that it was still paralyzed, though, and Breaker took advantage, darting around at a blazing pace. In no time Slaking was right back where it had been: bleeding and on the verge of fainting.

It seems Fate has it out for me in situations like these, for right as victory appears, it's snatched away in the jaws of defeat.

Breaker, noting the foe's weakness, grew a bit bolder and crept in closer. Slaking had barely moved this entire fight. But it was a ruse, a **facade**: as Breaker got within arm's reach, Slaking lunged out and brought a giant fist directly down on the lightning dog. I heard a disgusting squelch. When the fist was pulled away, there was only a red mash where Breaker's head had once been. The lifeless body slumped over. Slaking brushed it away with his hand, sending it tumbling out of the battle ring, trailing blood.

"Dammit!" I cried, biting back tears. Another companion lost in the blink of an eye. One hit kill. Not fair.

Norman said nothing, did nothing. He simply waited.

I knew better than to stop the battle, even though I wanted to. Sure, Slaking probably hadn't meant to kill Breaker, but my dad just stood there like nothing had happened. My sadness was replaced by a new emotion: vengeful rage. So I sent out the biggest thing I could: Ms. Splish. She'd fare better. She had to.

And she did. "Splish! **Bite**!" Ms. Splish took a huge chomp with her giant jaws, knocking Slaking unconscious. Norman recalled him and immediately sent in his second Pokémon. I was ready with D3X this time, and identified the foe as Vigoroth, Slaking's unevolved form-a fast-moving red and white sloth that stood upright on its hind legs.

It screeched and flexed its claws. Ms. Splish was unimpressed. I had her use **dragon rage**, sending a barrage of fireballs at Vigoroth. The bouncy beast replied with a fierce **slash**, drawing blood. But it was for naught: another **dragon rage** was all it took to bring him down.

Now I finally saw the expression on my dad's face begin to change. He was gritting his teeth and there were beads of sweat on his brow. Good. I wanted him to struggle.

He threw his final Pokéball, and the last battle began. Another Slaking. I pulled Ms. Splish out and sent in Juliet, hoping my new plan would work.

"**Leech seed**!" Juliet fired a barrage of spores at Slaking, which clung to his fur and began leaching energy.

"Slaking**, facade**." Slaking took a swing at Juliet, sending her tumbling backward and knocking off some of her petals. She rose unsteadily to her feet, badly hurt. At first I felt hopeless-if one blow did that, she wouldn't survive another. But wait… the seeds! They sent some energy back to her, revitalizing her. And… what was this? Slaking was groaning and shaking its hand. Oh! Juliet's poison point ability. Her poisonous spines. One had stuck into the creatures paw, injecting it with venom. I saw Slaking's skin began to change color as the toxin did its work.

"Juliet, return! Go, Hotwings!" I decided to seize the type advantage. Fighting beats normal. But did Hotwings have what it took to withstand a hit or two? Slaking was preoccupied with the leech seeds and the poison. I had to make a call. Should I take a chance on **double kick**, hoping to knock Slaking out in one turn? Or use **dig**, and count on the residual damage to finish him off?

I noticed Breaker's corpse on the side of the ring. No more taking chances.

"Hotwings, **dig**!"

"Slaking, **focus punch**." Slaking leapt with shocking speed to its feet and reared back its massive arm, readying a deadly strike.

Hotwings clucked and dove, disappearing in a shower of dirt.

Slaking missed. It staggered and fell, just as Hotwings burst up from beneath with claws outstretched, rending flesh. Slaking was clearly at the end of its strength, but still clung to consciousness.

I hesitated a moment. If I ordered Hotwings to strike again, he'd likely kill the Slaking. My mother's words echoed: _Make him feel so low_… Was this what she meant? Is this what she wanted? For me to _kill_ my father's Pokémon? And what would Taylor think? Is this what Taylor would do?

No. It couldn't be. They were both too kind-they would never want that.

"Hotwings, stand down," I ordered. Hotwings took a step back.

With one final groan as the poison and seeds did their work, Slaking fainted.

It was over. I'd done it. I'd defeated my father.

But he was, albeit unintentionally, about to defeat me too.

As he recalled Slaking to its Pokéball, the door to the private room behind him creaked open suddenly, causing both of us to turn our heads. A blast of loud music came from within, and I could see furnishings. His apartment, then.

Taylor walked out, barefoot, wearing only tiny blue volleyball shorts and one of my dad's undershirts. Her breasts-much more developed than mine, to say the least-were clearly visible through the thin white fabric, and her hair was pulled into a rough ponytail, mostly disheveled.

My blood turned to ice.

"Norm, did you want chocolate chips in your oh my god it's Lidya."

All of us froze, just staring at each other. Thirteen or not, it wasn't hard for me to figure out what was happening. What _had_ _been_ happening. Last night… oh my god, last night, was she...? Had they been...? And when I asked if she were at the gym, and she paused, she must've thought… oh my god.

"Oh my god," I choked. "Taylor, you? You're…?" I couldn't bring myself to say it.

Taylor put up her hands. "Lidya, wait, it's… it's not what it… I, uh… oh my _god…_" She trailed off. I could see tears beginning to form in her eyes.

I began to cry silently too, letting the water run down my cheeks. My father met my furious gaze. I couldn't remember ever being so angry and so hurt. The pain inside me felt like a hundred blades were filleting my heart.

"How could you?" I whispered. I pointed a finger at my dad and screamed, "_How could you?_"

"Lidya," my dad started. His face betrayed no emotion. "You don't understand."

"Oh, I understand _perfectly_," I growled. "You lied to me. You betrayed me." My eyes locked on Taylor. "_Both_ of you."

"Lidya, please," Taylor said desperately. "Calm down, please. Let's… let's talk."

I shook my head no. Paused. Stared daggers at my father. Why wasn't he upset? He just stood there, unmoving. "Give me my badge," I said softly.

"Lidya, listen to m-"

"_Give me my badge_!" I screamed as loud as I could. "_I beat you! Give me my badge!_"

Dad flinched. He slid his hand into his pocket and withdrew two objects-the Balance Badge, and a TM disc. Wordlessly, he held them out.

I walked across the blood-stained arena and snatched them from his hands, then turned and stormed toward the door.

"Lidya, wait!" Dad called.

I spun around, unable to contain an outburst. "_What_, Dad? What other lies do you want to tell me? Want to tell me who else are you cheating on Mom with? Or do you want to tell me about all the drugs in your gym? Or maybe why we had to move here from Johto? Did you get in trouble with the law? Did you _fuck_ too many _sluts_? Or maybe you want to tell me why you never, ever, _ever_ showed me your Pokémon, or told me about Pokémon, or even _loved_ _me at all_, _you selfish bastard!_"

I turned and left, slamming the door.

I made a promise to myself right then, as I pushed past the clueless trainers on my way to the exit. I was never going back. They could both rot, for all I cared.

My father and my best friend were as good as dead to me now.


	12. I Also Hate New Mauville

**Chapter 12: I Also Hate New Mauville**

I stood by the pond at the southeastern end of town for a long time, just staring at my reflection, letting my tears fall silently. I remembered what the old man had told me last time I stood here. _It's a shining smile full of hope, or maybe a nervous grimace of fear_, he'd said. What did my face show now?

Hollowness. Emptiness. Feeling so low and bitter. Taylor… how could you? How could you be having… _sex… _with _my father_? I felt a little bad for my "fuck too many sluts" comment, but in that moment I'd wanted to say the most hurtful thing I could think of. She must have known who I was when she met me. Maybe they didn't get together until after that. It didn't matter, though-as soon as she met my old man, she would have found out who I was pretty quickly. So knowing full well how much pain I was in over my relationship with my father, she chose to pursue something with him anyway. She didn't care about my feelings. Not at all.

And as for that lying bastard, Norman? My dad hadn't lost a damn thing in that fight, except some of his dignity. What had I lost? A best friend. A father. A huge chunk of my innocence, of my childhood. Everything he'd ever done was now called into question-every night he'd spent away on "business", every time he argued with my mother, every evening when he refused to tell me about Pokémon. His life had been a mystery. Now it felt like an open book… but I didn't like what I was reading.

"What does your reflection show, child?" an old man's voice said, close to me. I jumped.

"Oh! Excuse me," I gasped, wiping my tears on my sleeve.

"I see that you've changed, young lady," the man nearly whispered. I looked into my own eyes in the water. They were hard, set in my darkened skin beneath my bleached hair. He was looking into them too, in the reflection. "You're not the same as you were when you set out from here."

"No," I answered quietly. "I'm not."

"Here. I want you to have this. I was saving it for a special trainer-I think that might be you." Without another word he pushed an HM disc into my hand, tipped his hat, and walked away.

I turned the disc over. **Surf**, it read. Wow. This was valuable. Thanks, old man.

Gathering myself, I decided to pay a visit to my mother. Maybe she'd have some advice for me. Or some comfort food-it'd been a long time since I'd eaten anything other than sandwiches.

I rode my bike slowly, not really in any kind of hurry. It was two days on the trail before I got to Oldale, and from there reached Littleroot by lunchtime. My mother was outside on the porch. She did a double-take when I rolled up.

"Lidya? Is that you?" she asked, coming down the steps toward me. "It is! Oh my, you look so different!"

I smiled sheepishly, suddenly feel self-conscious. "Hey Mom. Long time no see."

She wrapped me up in a big hug. "Well, come on inside. I'll get something going for lunch."

I grinned, stupidly happy. _At least one person still loves me_, I thought.

I stayed with my mom for a month. As much as I'd started to value my independence, I felt a lot safer there than anywhere else, and after the shock I'd had with Norman, I was desperate for something familiar. Mom was a gem-she doted on me like I was a little kid again. Maybe she still thought of me as one. Didn't matter. I was happy, and for that short time I was able to forget about all the trials I'd faced.

I shared all my stories with my mom, spending time talking every night while she listened attentively. I showed her my Pokémon-she really liked Hotwings, Juliet, and Ruby, but thought Count and Ms. Splish were creepy. That made me laugh. I told her of the Pokémon I'd lost, showing her pictures I'd taken with my PokeGear. She cried when I explained each death, but strangely I did not. Maybe I was over it. Maybe I just didn't have any tears left.

I was hesitant to tell her about dad. It seemed to me that she already knew-when I showed her the badge from his gym, she smiled wider than I'd ever seen, like a toddler on Christmas. "You did well, Lidya. I'm so proud of you." She said that a lot. But finally, after a couple of weeks, I mustered the nerve and told her. She took it well-my hunch had been correct. She'd known. With a waver in her voice, she sat me down to explain some "important facts" about the Pine family.

My father, Norman, had been involved in performance enhancers for Pokémon for ages, since before he'd met Leaf, my mother. This was not a secret when she met him, and she married him knowing it full well. Mom didn't say much more about their early years, only that they had to leave Johto after Norman made a few enemies in the remnants of Team Rocket, the criminal syndicate that ran the region from behind the scenes. She'd suspected of his dalliances with other women for a year or so, but had no proof until shortly before we left Johto. That pink item I'd seen the day I left? His mistress's panties, accidentally packed up in one of his suit jackets. Dad's decision to stay in Petalburg was actually mutual-they were trying out a separation. Mom seemed optimistic about it. The fact that the one woman I'd befriended in town happened to be Dad's mistress was a bit of a downer, though. With surprising frankness, Mom said she figured they'd be divorced by this time next year, and she could move on with her life.

This was a lot for me to take in, but I began to accept it as the remaining weeks passed. And pass they did, all too quickly. September 28th arrived. My fourteenth birthday, and exactly six months since I'd left home the first time. I had five badges. Only three to go. Given my current pace, I figured I'd be the Champion by Renewal Festival. Oh, how wrong I was.

My mom took me on a little shopping spree for my birthday. Since I had no friends in town and Brendan-the only other kid my age that I might consider calling a friend-wasn't around, we celebrated alone, just the two of us. She bought me lots of new clothes, a nice lunch, and a ton of helpful items for my Pokémon battles, like healing salves, potions, and Pokéballs. My dad called that evening, but I refused to take the phone. She said he wished me a happy birthday. I told her to tell him to go to hell.

Like all good things, my respite at home had to come to an end. On the morning of September 30th, I climbed on my bike once again, now sporting a pretty rad outfit: black ankle boots with a golden shooting star pattern; navy shorts, held fast by a leather belt with a clasp at my waist and another on my left thigh; a black short-sleeve blouse with silver buttons; a chocolate half-sleeve jacket; a brown beanie; and a new yellow messenger bag for carrying my stuff, which had clips for my Pokéballs running down the strap that crossed my chest. I was looking _awesome_.

My mother waved goodbye. "I love you sweetie," she said again. "Good luck. You can always come back, whenever you want."

"Thanks Mom," I said. "I'll see you again when you come to watch me fight the Elite Four!"

She laughed. "That's my girl."

Then off I went, riding first north to Oldale, then further north onto Route 103. I'd used the **surf **HM to teach Ms. Splish the move-finally, a water-type attack!-and so was able to cross the inlet that separated Route 103 from Route 110. It took a day to reach the water.

Riding astride the Gyarados was a unique experience, very different from the comfort of Mr. Briney's skiff. I was able to stay pretty dry, but Ms. Splish wove back and forth through the waves like a snake, which was a movement that took some getting used to.

After a day of surfing followed by camping on a small island, we reached the shore of Route 110 the following morning, just north of Slateport. I backtracked that way a bit, then made my way into the Bike Path entryway. I could use this special route to bypass the otherwise marshy trail up to Mauville. Ugh, Mauville.

Double ugh, Mauville, when I got there that night: Wattson, the madman from the Gym, was standing in the middle of the trail as I approached, looking demented as usual.

"Hey, you're that trainer from a month or so back, aren't you?" he said casually, as if he hadn't ordered one of his Pokémon to blow mine up. "I need your help."

I was in no mood. "Why should I help you?"

He gestured behind himself, showing me Mauville as though it were his garden of homes and businesses. "The power is out," he explained. "The only things keeping this town running at the moment are my Pokémon. But they can't last long. I need a strong trainer to go to the New Mauville Power Plant and see what's causing the outage."

I rolled my eyes. "Listen you freakazoid, I don't care about Mauville's problems." And I didn't. If the whole town went dark, I wouldn't bat an eyelash. "Why don't you just go to the power plant yourself?"

"My Pokémon have no effect there. The place is crawling with other electric types. And I need to stay here to watch them, to make sure they don't overtax themselves." He looked forlorn, and for the first time since I'd met him I regarded him as an almost normal person, capable of normal emotions. He was worried about his Pokémon.

I groaned inwardly. Dang empathy. "All right, I'll check it out in the morning. Where's the Power Plant?"

The aged, rust-coated doors slid open with a dull hiss as I pressed the keycard to the electronic lock. I had an empty Great Ball in one hand and Hotwings's ball in the other. I was ready for whatever came at me-another electric type to replace Breaker would be most welcome.

Stepping inside, I realized "new" was a very inappropriate moniker for this place. The floors were filthy with dust and chunks of machinery. I spotted movement down a hallway as soon as I entered-a Pokémon. I hoped it would be a useful one, as it was the only one I could catch here.

Luck was with me that day: it was a Magneton, screeching and spinning as it drifted into view on its magnetic levitators. I found this creature a little unnerving. A living machine… freaky. Okay, so I was carrying a fighting fire-chicken on my bag, and I'd rode on a giant water fish/snake to get here, but still! Freaky!

Anyway, I caught it and named it Polaris.

Polaris proved incredibly useful immediately. After applying a potion, I sent it out against the plethora of Voltorbs and Magnemites that dotted the hallways. It's electric typing and hard steel body let it shrug off shock after shock with ease, and its **sonicboom** move quickly knocked out all attackers. I was worried the Voltorbs here might try to self-destruct, as Wattson's had, but thankfully it seemed none were suicidal that day.

We navigated the empty, echoing hallways of the deserted Power Plant, pushing buttons to open doors here and there. I felt uneasy. This place was what kept Mauville running? Why weren't there any workers maintaining it? Why had it fallen into such disarray?

Distracted by my thoughts, I tripped on a loose stone and fell, cutting my hand on a piece of jagged metal. I winced as hot red began to trickle down my arm. Suddenly, a few drops of blood floated out of my palm, spinning in the air. I stared at them in alarm. Polaris watched the droplets with its three unblinking eyes. It let out a gentle purr. The droplets fell to the floor.

See? Freaky.

I looked to see what I'd tripped over, and found it to be a curious green gemstone with a yellow bolt-shaped streak in the middle. It seemed valuable, so I pocketed it.

After a time we reached the massive machine that ran the power plant. It was a system of turbines, designed to do… something. I hadn't really understood Wattson's explanation of the generator's function. What I did know was how to restart the generator-all it needed was a blast from a powerful electric type, like Polaris.

I had it shock the device. The machine whirred to life. Our work was done.

"Let's get out of here," I said wearily. Hours walking the halls of the abandoned plant had left me drained, and I wasn't looking forward to the long trek home. Still, perhaps something good would come of this. At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

Fortunately, something good _did_ come of it. Wattson was waiting for me when I returned that evening. I was grimy and sweaty and just wanted a shower, but Wattson insisted on rewarding me right away. So I had to wait while he shuffled through his pockets, finally digging out a slightly dinged TM disc.

"This is **thunderbolt**," he told me. "A powerful, reliable electric move. I think you'll make good use of it!"

"Yeah, that's great, but listen: What is with New Mauville anyway? It's like an abandoned ruin!"

Wattson laughed heartily, and for a bit too long. "I'm an observer for the Pokémon League," he explained. "It's my job to be on the lookout for promising young trainers who might challenge the Elite Four and their Champion. When you blew through my gym, I reported you to them. They asked me to issue you a challenge-a trial of sorts." He guffawed. "Looks like you were successful!"

I gaped at him. "So… there was no power outage?"

"Nope."

"You just had me waste my time in there? I could've been killed!"

"It was a test!" He laughed yet again. "If you weren't worthy of the League's attention, you wouldn't have passed. So clearly you are. Be happy!" And with that, he waddled off to his gym, leaving me staring in confusion and disgust. Was everyone in this region out to get me? It was starting to seem so.

Well, whatever. I spent the night in Mauville and started out the next morning, heading east to Route 118. Before me stretched a long, glorious lake. I couldn't even see the far side, but according to my map, that was where I needed to go: the rest of Route 118, and further to Route 119. I'd pass a place called the Weather Institute before arriving in Fortree City.

I rode on Ms. Splish's scaly back for hours, eventually nodding off as the calming _swish_ of the water lulled me into a hypnotic state. I awoke a short time later. It was past midday, and we still hadn't reached the other side of the lake. I began to worry, but it turned out to be nothing: the shore appeared not thirty minutes later, and we landed in the late afternoon. I decided to make my way to a trainer house and get started on Route 119 the next day. The night passed uneventfully.

My first battle actually occurred on Route 118, and was a bit unexpected. I was hiking along, admiring the tall pines, when I was spotted by a pair of… reporters? A man with a massive camera and a woman with a microphone approached.

"I'm Gabby and this is Ty!" the woman said excitedly as she shook my hand. She wore a short skirt and sleeveless white blouse. Her cameraman had blue jeans and a black tee. "We're with Trainer's Eyes, a program that captures up-and-coming trainers on film for all of Hoenn to see."

I raised an eyebrow. "Uh huh. I'm Lidya Pine."

"Would you mind battling us for our show?" she asked. Phew. Didn't recognize me. I'd rather not hear any more people gush about my father.

"All right," I said, not really wanting to but feeling impolite to refuse. They were trainers, after all.

The battle was nothing special-a double against Gabby's Loudred and Ty's Magnemite. Hotwings was a match for both between his fierce kicks and flaming breath, but I used Juliet for insurance, her grass typing resistant to Magnemite's electric shocks.

After our fight, Gabby asked for an interview. "How would you describe our battle?" she said excitedly, pushing the microphone in my face.

I was feeling a little uncomfortable, so I said, "Um, no comment."

If Gabby minded my reticence, she didn't show it. "Okey dokey! Thanks for the battle-look for it on TV next time Trainer's Eyes is on!" I bid them farewell and continued on my way.

The next encounter I had was even less expected, and even more awkward. As I traversed an area of brush and tall grass, I heard heavy footfalls. Someone was walking along a ledge above me. I turned and saw a familiar pair of dark pants begin to descend the cliff face. A shining crop of blue-white hair was the next thing I made out through the foliage.

Steven Stone, the Pokémon Champion, landed on the ground beside me and turned, a smile on his face. "Oh!" he exclaimed, recognition in his eyes. "You're that trainer I met in Dewford! It was… Lidya, right?"

I nodded, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious about how I looked. "Yeah, that's me."

He shook my hand. "Good to see you again. Where are you headed?"

"Oh, just on my way to Fortree."

He nodded slowly. "I see. I was just out exploring this area, looking for new Pokémon. There are so many kinds of Pokémon in this world-many that we've never seen, I think!" There was a pause. I looked at my feet, unable to keep staring into those dreamy blue eyes. "Well, I won't keep you. Funny bumping into you again!"

"Yeah, haha," I said, forcing a small laugh. "See you later."

"I hope so," Steven said with a wink. Then he took off into the brush, leaving me alone and feeling a whole slew of unfamiliar emotions. It took me the better part of the day to get my head on straight again. Dangit Steven! Popping up out of nowhere! I must've looked like a fool again, I thought. Oh well.

After camping the night at the end of Route 118, I turned onto Route 119 the next morning. It led north along the edges of a river that fed the lake I'd crossed to get here in the first place. I knew the journey to the Weather Institute would take about three days, and truthfully I was eager to get started.

On Route 119 my first encounter was with, unfortunately, a Zigzagoon. I felt the familiar bite of guilt as I weakened and caught the creature, naming her Jill. No one could replace Noguri, but I would be a fool not to grab up a Pokémon when I had the chance, even if it were one I didn't plan to use. I would release her later, of course. After I became the Champion.

Moving north, around midday I came upon a very strange group of men. There were five of them, and when they saw me coming they broke away from one another and scattered into a huge meadow. The five spread themselves out in the area, and waited. I stood on the edge of the plain, staring. They remained frozen. I took a step, and all five of them took a step as well in whatever direction they were facing.

"The hell?" I murmured. Turns out they were the Mimic Circle, a group of bug fanatics who enjoy copying the movements of trainers. I guess it's some kind of artistic thing? I dunno. They were weird.

Battling each proved taxing, though not because the fights were challenging. No, instead I had to witness a parade of my fallen companions, seemingly revived before my eyes. One of the trainers had a Surskit-I recalled Crystal's ripped-off leg-and another used a Beautifly-Suzie's torn wing fluttered through my vision. I made sure to be extremely gentle against those foes.

Camping that night on the far side of the meadow, I felt a very strange sense of loneliness. I was with my Pokémon, sure, but there was something else missing. I felt a strange sort of ache in my body, a physical tension that simply relaxing would not alleviate. I lay there in my tent, trying to piece together what I was feeling. Thoughts of Steven continued running through my mind. What was this… this _need_ I felt? This longing for… _something_?

I don't think I really have to go into more detail about this. This is a story about how I became the Pokémon Champion, and frankly I'm not sure how much more I even _want_ to tell you. I'll just say this and drop the subject: I figured out how to make the need go away, and from that point onward I never looked at the boys in my life quite the same way again. There, done, moving on.

I hiked along the riverbank the next day, battling trainers with my slowly-wearying team of Pokémon. All was going well until the-

"Ninja attack!" a boy shrieked. He burst from what appeared to be a solid wall beside me, causing me to shriek.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" I demanded. "You scared me!"

"The true ninja is a master of surprise!" he cried. Punk couldn't have been more than eleven. "Now battle me!"

I sighed, trying to force the adrenaline out of my beating heart, and sent out Hotwings. The poor bird was looking a little weary, and I could understand why-it'd been days since we saw a Pokémon Center. The ninja kid sent a Nincada, which Hotwings fainted with a blast of fire.

Next came a Koffing. Not wanting to risk Hotwings' health, I recalled him and sent out Count. A nice poison resistance should help in battle against the hovering gas-bag. Count was ready to rock: I'd barely used him in the battles prior.

Koffing smiled and said, "Koffing!" in a jolly tone. I couldn't help but grin.

My smirk melted instantly when I heard the words, "Self-destruct" leave the Ninja Boy's mouth.

"No!" I cried, but it was too late. Count looked back at me pitifully, his four wings flapping like banners in the wind, as Koffing began to glow and shake. The purple lump shut its eyes and quivered like an earthquake.

Count bravely wrapped his wings around the foe, shielding me from the blast. It tore both Pokémon to pieces. One of Count's fangs, blown clear of his mouth, shot at me like a bullet and embedded itself in my left shoulder. I let out a scream and stumbled back, bleeding from the wound.

The ninja boy was laughing hysterically. "Oh man, that's too funny! Ha ha!"

I was biting back tears as the pain grew. I pulled back my coat a bit and noted a dark purple hue beginning to radiate from the fang, which was deep inside my shoulder just below my collarbone. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I stammered at the boy.

"My dad buys these things for me. I love blowing them up!" he giggled.

I could only stare. This was unreal. Had this kid forced his Pokémon to obliterate itself, killing one of my trusted friends in the process… for _fun_?

Blind with rage, I did the only thing I could think of: I charged forward and punched that little shit right in his smug face. My fist throbbed from the impact against his jaw, but I heard a satisfying crunch when my knuckles connected. The boy immediately fell to the ground and began crying.

"Don't you _ever_ do that again, you little punk," I spat. I realized at that moment how much bigger I was than him. My shoulder continued to burn with pain. "Pokémon are not toys you can just throw away. Because of you and your games, one of my Pokémon is dead." The boy stared up at me with tear-filled eyes, whimpering. I looked away. "This battle is over," I growled. "Go home."

The ninja kid didn't need to be told twice. He clambered to his feet-I felt satisfaction in seeing his bleeding lip-and took off running to the north, further up the trail. Well, fine. I wasn't going that way anyway.

As the anger finally drained from my chest, something else took its place: pain. A dull, pulsating agony enveloped my shoulder, and I groaned, falling to the ground. I pulled back my jacket more. The fang now had a circle of bright purple all around it, bigger than a pancake. Count's venom. It was killing me.

I moaned again, starting to lose strength. Fortunately I had enough energy left to dig through my pack and locate an antidote-I always had at least a few on me after the incident in Petalburg Woods.

_Hope this works_, I thought desperately. My vision was starting to swim. The antidote bottles have two pieces: one end is an oral dose, and the other is a spray. I downed the liquid, nearly choking at its bitterness, and then sprayed the reserved liquid onto the wound. It burned and began to sizzle like hydrogen peroxide.

Then my vision faded, and my world turned to darkness as I collapsed into the charred remnants of my fallen Pokémon.


	13. Fair-Weather Friends

**Chapter 13: Fair-Weather Friends**

Waking up was not pleasant. I was on my back in the dirt. The sun had barely moved across the sky, and I realized very little time had passed. Or had a whole day gone by? I couldn't be sure until I looked at my PokéNav. Phew. Yes. Only half an hour lost.

I sat up, regretting it. My head hurt, and my body felt like a Snorlax had sat on it. For a moment I couldn't remember what'd happened, but then it hit me in a flash: Count's death, punching that jerk, the poison, the antidote. I slid my coat off my shoulder and examined the wound.

The fang, off-white in color, was buried under my skin, slightly to the side of the thin strap of the bra I was embarrassed to be wearing. I could just make out the tooth's triangular, bladed shape beneath the dried blood. The huge purple aura that had surrounded it before was gone, but now instead I could see tiny violet tendrils, vein-like, spreading from the fang's impact site. The area directly adjacent to the tooth was still purplish in color, but on the whole it looked far better than it had before. And despite the headache, I felt fine. Guess those antidotes _do_ work on humans.

Picking myself up, I considered my situation. I probably needed a doctor. I might be okay for now, but this injury could cause major problems if I didn't get it attended to. Or so I guessed. Really, I had no idea. It was still sore, but some sort of numbing agent in the antidote spray was easing the pain.

I decided to turn back and head for Mauville. Loathe as I was to go _there_ again, I really had no choice. It was a few more days to Fortree, easily. It was days to Mauville too, but I'd already beaten all the trainers on the way here, so it would be a much faster trip. I climbed astride my bike and started pedaling south.

I didn't make it far before the antidote wore off. I was riding along, trying to concentrate on the path ahead, when suddenly my vision started to swim like I'd dunked my face in a bucket of water. I tried to bring the bike to a stop but my legs seemed to be spasming, and instead I crashed into a rock and tumbled over the handlebars, landing on my back, staring up at the sun. I blacked out.

* * *

Sadly, I have the stupid Mimic Circle to thank for saving my life. I went unconscious not far from their favorite meadow, and after (so they told me) mimicking my tumble, the five ran to my aid. I awoke briefly to see their concerned faces, but then I was out.

The world became a blurry haze of experiences. I would awaken for a few seconds here, a minute there, but always reality maintained a dream-like haze, a filter over my eyes that turned everything to muted, echoing dust. I thought I heard familiar voices, but I couldn't be sure. I remember rushing wind. I remember a hard surface. The rumble of an engine. Then only fragments, the nature of which I cannot recall even now.

I didn't wake up fully until the hospital. I opened my eyes to find myself staring at closed blinds. I could sense a soft bed beneath me, and feel the icy sting of something in my arm-an IV. A heart monitor drew its slow, undulating line at my bedside. There were flat suction cups stuck all over my chest, the wires attached to them running to other machines all around me. I let out a gentle groan. There was no pain, but I felt weird. Very tired.

"Hey, champ-in-the-making," a familiar voice said. I carefully rolled myself over. My father was standing in the corner of the room. He wore dusty brown pants, an untucked white button-up, and black boots.

I tried to shout in rage, but my whole body felt utterly drained, and all I could do was rasp, "What're _you_ doin' here?"

He sighed as though my question were expected. "I'm here to keep an eye you."

"Where'm I?"

Dad walked a little closer. "You're in Goldenrod City, in Johto. At Johto University Hospital."

"How'd I get here?"

Dad began to pace in tiny back-and-forth movements. "After the Mimic Circle picked you up, they took you to the trainer house on Route 118. Authorities were notified. You were airlifted by helicopter to the hospital, as this is the nearest intensive care facility that can handle **toxic** poison. They used your Trainer Card to contact me, and I borrowed a friend's Dragonite to fly out here."

I was little taken aback. Johto? Airlift? I couldn't remember any of that. "How long've I been here?"

"Three days," Dad said flatly. "Mostly unconscious. You rambled in your sleep a few times… a lot of names. Suzie, Ruth, Brendan… I couldn't understand the rest."

"You… you've been here all that time?" I suddenly noticed the dark rings under my father's eyes, his disheveled hair, and the wrinkles in his clothes. The padded chairs in the room were pushed together by the wall, forming a flat surface, over which Dad had laid his coat. My heart softened, just a little.

"I had to make sure my little girl was okay," Dad said, finally smiling.

I smiled too. I hadn't forgiven him, but I felt a little bit less angry. "I'm so tired."

"You're on a lot of painkillers, mostly morphine. The doctors say they can operate tomorrow."

"Operate… wait, I still have that thing in me?" I cautiously lifted my arm and pulled the shoulder of my gown aside, revealing the ominous purple stain and the fang, still buried within. "Geez."

"The doctor said… ah." Dad stopped when the doorknob turned and a kindly gray-haired woman in a lab coat came in, flanked by a young man in green nurse scrubs.

"Oh, hello Lidya! How nice to finally see you awake and lucid!" the woman said sweetly. Her voice was like warm honey, with a thick Kanto accent. "I'm Dr. Harding. I've been taking care of you."

I gave her a weak smile. "Thanks."

She studied a chart on a clipboard while the nurse checked my fluids. "You've got quite an injury there. Can you tell me how it happened? I have some guesses, but I'd really like to get the story straight."

I explained my battle with the ninja kid, and how Count's fang had been blown into my shoulder by the explosion. Not thinking clearly, I also mentioned how I'd punched him for what he did. Dr. Harding interrupted me at this juncture.

"How did you stay conscious long enough to ride your bike all the way back to the field where the Mimic Circle was?"

"I used an antidote. I drank it and sprayed it on the wound."

Eyes widened around the room, including my father's. "You did?" Dr. Harding asked.

"It was the only thing I could think of to do."

She nodded slowly. "That was smart thinking. Very few tests have been done on human subjects with those antidotes, but it seems this time it worked just as desired, at least temporarily." She collected herself and said, "We'll operate tomorrow and get that fang out. Shouldn't take more than thirty minutes."

"How long do I have to stay here?" I asked.

"I'd like to keep you under observation for at least two days, and then you'll have some physical therapy to restore the use of your arm." I noticed then that I could barely lift it. "About a week total, I'd guess." She looked at me with warmth. "I know you want to get back on your Pokémon journey, but we need to get you healed up first." With that, she and the nurse departed.

The room was silent, except for the quite _whirr_ of the heart-rate monitor. Outside, a cloud passed over the sun, turning the blinds dark. I breathed slowly. Surgery… I felt scared, but the fear was muted, like I was feeling it second-hand. Must be the drugs. I liked the feeling, a little, because I didn't want to be afraid. I'd dealt with so much fear already.

"Lidya," my dad said after a long moment.

"Mmm?" I was feeling quite drained. My eyelids started to droop.

He hesitated. "Did you really punch that boy? After he blew up his Koffing and killed your Crobat?"

"Look," I grunted, hefting my right hand. There was a light bruise along my knuckles where I'd connected with the kid's jaw. Dad held my fingers softly with his rough hand, studying the injury.

After a second, he nodded. "I'm proud of you." He lowered my hand back down to rest at my side, and walked away.

I smiled wide. Even the morphine couldn't dull the happiness I felt at those words. Before I could reply, however, I drifted off to silent, blissful sleep.

* * *

The operation was a success. They even let me keep the fang-I'm wearing it now, on a necklace. Oh, don't worry: all the poison leached into my body, so there's no danger. Wanna see it? Look. Yeah, get a close-up. You'll be hearing about this fang again. This was _inside_ my shoulder, guys.

Speaking of things in my body, the surgeon explained afterward that I would unfortunately have a permanent scar from the injury, which is why to this day I have a palm-sized network of purple tendrils decorating my left shoulder. Check it out. Wicked, right?

True to her word, Dr. Harding kept me in the hospital for seven more days. When I finally exited the facility, it was with both my parents-Mom had managed to get a flight out. If there were any tension between them, they didn't show it. We caught a seaplane back to Slateport, where I was reunited with my supplies (courteously recovered by the Mimic Circle and shipped to the harbor). I had more or less recovered fully by that point, and felt eager to get on the road again.

"Oh my sweet Lidya," my mother said fondly. "Please be careful out there. You gave us such a fright." We were standing on the docks in Slateport. I'd already reloaded my pack and twisted my bicycle back into its proper alignment.

"I will," I said firmly. I was fully committed to not getting hurt again-I certainly hadn't enjoyed the experience any more than they had.

"Good luck Lidya," my dad added. While not entirely able to forgive him, I did feel a bit less hostility than I had before. He'd shown me incredible kindness at the hospital. "I know you'll make it. I can see it in your eyes."

"Yeah," I replied. I could hardly wait to get away from them, and felt bad for feeling it. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate what they'd done, but I was so used to freedom that being with both of them again felt… stifling. Like it'd been back in Olivine. "I'll be careful. See you both when you come to watch me beat the Elite Four." I grinned. They both hugged me, and then I got onto my bike and headed north, aiming for-ugh-Mauville.

I used the bike path to get there quickly, but it still took me most of a day, and I slept the night in Mauville. The next day I went west. There was a certain adorable blue bird waiting for me at the Daycare. Welcome to the team, Serenity the Swablu! I knew a flying type would come in handy, and her eventual transformation into a dragon type would be a boon as well, assuming she lived that long. I felt less pain at Count's death than I had at the deaths of the other Pokémon. Perhaps I was truly getting used to losing my companions. Perhaps I was just too jaded to care.

As before, I spent a day getting back to Mauville, another day to reach the trainer house on Route 118, and another day to travel along Route 119 past the Mimic Circle, or at least where they used to be. It seemed they'd packed up camp and moved elsewhere, as I saw no one during my journey through the meadow.

I reached the cliff where the fateful battle had taken place, spying the charred spot on the stone. It'd been over two weeks since I last stood in this ground. I saw no sign of the ninja boy whose face I'd rearranged. Good thing too, or I don't know what I might've done.

Pedaling onward, I reached the Weather Institute around one. It was a towering structure of at least three stories, with satellite dishes and various meteorological instruments scattered across the surface like misshapen candles on an ugly rectangular cake. I hadn't expected the place to be so large. Moving closer, I noticed something curious: the lights were out on the first floor. Shadows moved before the windows on the upper levels, but I couldn't quite make out what they were doing. Was the station closed? Conserving power?

The truth turned out to be much more sinister, but it did end with yet another first for our lovely heroine. Allow me to elucidate.

I locked up my bike outside and entered. Correction: tried to enter. The front doors were locked. My curiosity got the better of me, so I decided to try to find a way inside. I circled the building, eventually locating a promising fire exit that had been left slightly ajar. Stealthily, I crept in.

The interior was dark, so I used the flashlight feature of my PokéNav to light the way. The room I'd entered appeared to be a laboratory, but no one was inside. Rows of beakers and test tubes lined the walls, and stacks of books and papers dotted the tables spread around the wide space. I tiptoed to the only visible door, hoping to make my exit.

Just then I heard voices, growing louder. I quickly opened a tall cabinet and slipped inside. The door to the room creaked.

"...won't be happy about it," a deep voice said.

"I don't care what you think. You're not being paid to think. You're being paid to do what you're told," replied a female voice, sharp and stern.

"But what if Archie doesn't like how we're handling things?"

"You don't worry about Archie, all right? Just focus on your job."

Archie? The leader of Team Aqua? I had to sneak a peek. Sure enough, the burly man and slender woman who'd entered were dressed in the familiar blue pajamas of everyone's favorite eco-terrorism gang.

"Admin Shelly," the man continued, seeming to plead, "I want to do just that. But I need to understand why we're here."

"We're here-" Shelly began. I held my breath. She was studying a pile of reports on a table. After a moment, she picked up the stack and started toward the door. "We're here to-" But it was too late. They'd exited the room.

_Damn!_ I thought. _I need to find out what they're planning_. I can't say for sure what compelled me to do this. Maybe it was my previous encounter with Archie-the one that landed me in the hospital for the first time during my adventure, with sulfur dioxide in my lungs? Their actions atop Mt. Pyre had threatened all of Hoenn. It seemed as though no one outside knew what was going on at the Institute-I hadn't heard any reports on the radio or at the Trainer House-and so it fell to me to do something about it.

_I'll just find out what they're up to, and then decide_, I thought.

Slipping out of the cabinet, I slunk into the hallway and kept to the shadows, searching for an opportunity to eavesdrop. Nothing was forthcoming. It seemed most of the grunts were upstairs.

After a time I came upon a young boy guarding a hallway, alone. He couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen from the look of it, but he wore the Aqua uniform all the same. His back was to me.

I hesitated. My course of action was clear: I needed to ask someone what was happening here, and I didn't imagine he'd talk willingly. Could I challenge him to a Pokémon battle? Too loud. What was a kid even doing here? Everyone else I'd seen had been an adult. Then again, maybe I just hadn't encountered the younger members before now.

Wasting no more time, I did what I thought my father would've done: I stepped from the shadows and grabbed the boy around his neck with my arm, holding the Crobat fang against his throat. "Listen up, punk," I growled. "Don't move or I prick you with this **toxic** fang." I felt like an idiot. Surely he'd see through my bluff? Maybe he could feel my heart beating through my chest, adrenaline and fear sending it into a rapid cadence.

The boy froze. "Wh-wh-who are you?" he asked, his voice quavering. "Are you with Magma?"

I paused. With Magma, he'd said. Time to bluff. "I am. So you'd better start talking."

"I'm one of you! I'm Magma!" he pled, letting out a little whimper.

"Oh? How do I know you're not lying?"

"Let me go and I'll show you." I released him, and he turned around. He was tall and skinny, just a bit taller than me in fact. His hair was black, and he had piercing green eyes. His nose was endearingly large, and when he saw my face, he locked up, as if paralyzed. Frankly I felt the same way.

"Well?" I demanded, regaining my composure.

"Oh, um," he stumbled. "Here." He extracted a badge from his Aqua vest. The emblem bore Team Magma's insignia. "I'm so glad you turned up. What's your name?"

"Lidya."

"I'm Axel." Axel looked around, suddenly alert. "Where's your disguise?"

"There wasn't time," I said, starting to worry that my lie would spin out of control. "They sent me to meet with you, and said you'd set me up with one."

"Then let's get you into a uniform." Axel led me through the twisting hallways until we reached what seemed to be a dormitory. "Wait here," he said, gesturing to a darkened corner. "I'll get you some clothes."

I waited until Axel returned with an Aqua uniform. Blue pants, a black and white striped tube top, and a blue bandana with a skull. Classy. I made Axel go back into the dorm while I quickly changed in the hall, stashing my clothes in my backpack.

"So what's the situation here?" I asked. Realizing I might blow my cover, I added, "I had a short briefing, but not much was known back at HQ."

"Not sure. They don't tell me much. But I know that there're experimental Pokémon somewhere in this facility, and Team Aqua is trying to get ahold of them. Why, I don't know. I heard them say they want to take it to their base in Lilycove."

"I see. So let's go stop them, huh?"

"It's not that easy. Admin Shelly has the codes to the second floor where the scientists are being held, and she's always with her pet Grunt, Jack."

I nodded as if I already knew all this. "What's your plan?"

"Shelly and Jack just left on business. They won't be back until tomorrow."

I clapped my hands together. "Perfect. When they return, we'll attack. In the meantime, we stay undercover."

Axel looked at me with his head cocked, smiling sideways. "You don't mess around, do you?"

We integrated ourselves into the crew of Aqua grunts-with Axel to vouch for me, the goons didn't even bother asking any further questions as to how or why I suddenly appeared. Living the Team Aqua life was a bit dull, really: mostly just guarding empty rooms. There were a few other members under the age of 25, but we were the youngest by far.

Most of the time the guards amused themselves with vulgar, idle talk. Occasionally they would spar with their (often stolen) Pokémon, placing bets on the outcome and pushing the combatants to the point of exhaustion. Beating the rabble would be a cakewalk. I was less sure about Shelly and Jack.

I spent a lot of time with Axel that day. His smile filled me with an odd sensation. I didn't find him particularly attractive-he was kind of lanky and clumsy-but something in his cheerful awkwardness was endearing. I ended up telling him my life story-my adventure, my Pokémon, and my origins.

"I grew up in Johto too," he explained over lunch, which was typical cafeteria fare, as the Aqua gang had commandeered use of the Institute's kitchens and mess hall. "But I lived in the east, in New Bark Town."

"Did you ever go to Olivine?" I asked through a mouthful of ham sandwich.

"No, never."

"It was nice."

He nodded. "Anyway, I became a trainer when I was ten, like most kids, but I didn't make it very far. Just a couple badges." He showed me his collection, which included three: Zephyr, Hive, and Plain. I'd see these badges before, in my father's trophy case.

"Very cool."

"Then something happened." He looked down, and I could see the pain inside reflected on his face. "There was an attack, and… my parents died."

I gasped involuntarily. I was no stranger to death at this point, but those were people, not Pokémon. "I'm so sorry Axel."

"It was about a year ago," he continued. "We were on vacation here in Hoenn. My parents knew Maxie, so we were with him when it happened. Without them, I had nowhere to go, no way to get home. But Maxie agreed to take me in and give me a chance for revenge, and I've been a Magma ever since."

I was astounded. This was heavy stuff for a fourteen-year-old to deal with. Again, not that I hadn't had my fair share, but still. "That's so awful. I'm sorry."

Axel smiled meekly. "It's fine."

We spent the rest of the day mingling among the grunts and guarding empty hallways. I tried to learn as much as I could of their plans, but all I could get was the name of the Pokémon they were after: Castform. D3X had no information on this one.

Night fell. Axel and I retreated to gendered dorms, with the promise of meeting again the morning to execute our plan. I lay awake a long time, thinking about many things, and trying to ignore the idle banter of the other female goons in the dorm room.

When morning arrived, Axel and I met for breakfast. We knew Shelly and Jack would return sometime in the early afternoon, and we planned to be ready. I'd scouted a strong option for where to store the grunts we defeated: there was a computer room with no other doors or windows on the first floor, and Axel had managed to swipe the key during the night.

Our objective clear, we sprang into action. Axel tore off his Aqua shirt, revealing the red and black getup of his Team beneath. He looked quite heroic as he pointed a finger at the nearest grunt and challenged him to battle. I didn't have a Magma uniform, so I made do with my original outfit.

On and on we battled. Some foes were so weak and cowardly that they gave up before the fight began. Others put on a good show, but between myself and Axel, we were more than a match. As each grunt fell to our wrath, we locked them one by one in the computer room. At first they struggled, and we grew worried about opening the door to shove another prisoner in. So as a precaution, I kept Hotwings out of his ball, ready to deliver a swift kick to anyone dumb enough to try to escape. No one tried.

At last it was done. We were the only ones left moving freely through the facility. Axel and I entered the final stage of our plan: lie in wait. Soon enough, Shelly and Jack would return bearing their card keys, and we'd be able to unlock the last room and free the scientists. Axel and I huddled behind a tipped-over lab table on the second floor, waiting to spring our trap. Just in time, too: we heard the doors on the first floor being unbolted, and echoing voices rang up the stairs to our ears.

"This is it," Axel said. He was breathing hard. "I've seen them battle, Lidya. They're not pushovers like everyone else was. They'll put up a real fight."

I nodded silently. Feeling a sudden rush of fear and emotion, I took Axel's hand.

He spun to look into my eyes, surprised. "Huh?"

I smiled nervously. "Nothing. I'm just scared."

Axel chuckled quietly. "You? Scared? Since when?"

"I dunno! Since… since whenever. Shut up!" I pushed him playfully. He pushed back. I pushed again. He pushed. I pushed. He kissed me.

I was so shocked that for a moment I just sat there, gaping, my hand on my cheek where his lips had been. "Did… did you just kiss me?"

He turned red. "I… uh… sorry, I thought you…"

There was a powerful warmth in my chest. I said, "I liked it."

He smiled again, the red fading from his cheeks. "Really?"

"Yeah. Quick, do it again. I can hear them on the stairs." We kissed one more, on the lips this time. I'd never kissed a boy before. It felt nice, blissfully nice. His lips were a little rough, like kissing a wet piece of paper, but he was earnest. I tried sticking my tongue out like I'd seen in movies, but before we could do much with that, Shelly and Jack arrived on the second floor. Axel and I broke apart.

"Come out, come out, little mice!" Shelly said, her voice full of malice. "Where are you hiding?"

"We're gonna pulverize you!" Jack added.

"Subtle," I murmured. "Right here!" I stood up and stepped from behind the table, as Axel did the same.

"You're going to meddle in Team Aqua's affairs? I'll put you down, kiddy! Jack, take care of the boy. Go, Carvanha!" Shelly shouted; a spiky fish emerged from its Pokéball moments later. I fielded Polaris. A few **thundershock**s later, and the Carvanha fell.

Shelly growled like a beast. "Go! Mightyena!" A large black wolf like the one Archie had used appeared. I recalled Polaris and sent out Hotwings, not even breaking a sweat. Two kicks was all it took. Jack and Axel were still in combat as Shelly's second Pokémon fell, but their fight ended moments later.

It was over quickly after that. Totally cowed, Shelly gave up the key to the back room, and agreed to pull out all of Team Aqua's troops. I wondered why she was willing to just back down, but I suppose the threat of us using our Pokémon against her was motivation enough. The scientists we freed were unharmed but haggard, as they'd been sleeping on the floor and eating meager rations brought up by the Aqua crew. They thanked us profusely, and before we left, gave us each a Pokéball.

"We have a number of the experimental Pokémon Castform here at the Institute. I think these two will be in much safer hands with you," the scientist explained.

Outside the facility once again, I took a deep breath of fresh air. I'd been cooped up in there for almost two full days now. Time to hit the road again. I recovered my bike and stood before Axel, who'd produced a bicycle of his own from some bushes.

"I guess this is goodbye for now," he said.

"Yeah."

"Thanks for everything."

"Yeah, you too." I suddenly felt shy. "Um, do you have a phone?"

"No."

"Dang. Well… maybe I'll see you again sometime."

He smiled. "I'd like that."

Not wanting to ruin this nice moment with any further awkwardness, I swallowed my fear, kissed him on the mouth, and pedaled away on my bike, toward Fortree City. I looked back only once. He kept watching me until I lost sight of him beyond a hill.

* * *

Of course the next person I'd encounter would be Brendan. It'd been months since I'd last seen him, and just as I'd grown, so had he. He now stood a few inches taller than me and had a little bit more muscle. The beginnings of stubble were growing on his cheeks and upper lip. I was actually quite happy to see him despite his rudeness the last time we met.

"Hey, it's Lidya!" he said. We encountered one another on a long slope on Route 119. He seemed to be coming from Fortree, headed south. "What're you doin' out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing!" I got off my bike and stood there, a little uncomfortably.

"Right, right. We always seem to be going different ways when we meet." He grinned. "How'd those goggles turn out?"

"So helpful. Thank you. Because of them, I'm the proud owner of… let me show you." I summoned Ruby from his ball. Brendan was impressed.

"A shiny. Very nice!"

"I thought so," I said with a smirk. It felt good to have one up on Brendan. "But anyway, how've you been?" He told me of his recent trip to Fortree, but that something was causing trouble. He suspected it was a Pokémon, so he was off to visit his father to find out more.

"By the way," he continued, "you still haven't asked me the most important question."

"Hm?"

"Duh. 'Do you want to battle?'" he shouted cheerfully, and readied a Pokéball.

"Definitely," I said.

As usual, I made short work of him. After the battle, Brendan did something I've never seen him do before when losing: he smiled. "Good fight!"

"Um, thanks."

"You've really improved a lot. And you have some really nice Pokémon." Thinking for a moment, he reached into his pack. "Here, I want you to have this." It was an HM disc, for the move **fly**.

"Are you sure?" This was a valuable gift.

"Positive!" he cheered, and now I saw in his look something familiar, some spark I'd seen in a look given to me by another boy just a few hours prior…

Not quite knowing what else to do, and awash with hormones, adrenaline, and the thrill of having power over others, I did to him what I'd done to Axel: I kissed him on the mouth and hopped on my bike. "Thanks for the gift," I said teasingly.

He stared at me a moment with wide eyes, then said, "No, thank _you_."

I was gone before I could appreciate the nuance of the hungry look in his eyes.


	14. Taking Flight

**Chapter 14: Taking Flight**

I arrived in Fortree City a few hours later. It was a magnificent place, built on treetops. Each home and building was connected with wooden walkways that dangled in the canopy, hidden amidst the blend of needled and leaf-bearing trees. The buildings themselves were all built onto or around the branches and trunks of the great giants, and all were made of wood. I wondered for a moment if fire Pokémon were illegal here-surely one mistake would raze the whole town?

The Pokémon Center was on the forest floor, thankfully, but after healing up, it became clear that I'd need to climb if I wanted to get anywhere. In fact, crossing through town to the next route required an ascent, as the forest was so densely packed with spiky brush, passage was impossible.

So I clambered up one of the well-worn rope ladders and found myself on the walkways hanging high above the green below. It was a little dizzying at first, but I soon grew to appreciate the soft breeze and the constant rustling of the leaves. I found the trainer hostel and settled in for the night, exhausted.

The next day I went exploring. First stop was the Gym… but I couldn't get to it. I could _see_ it, just ahead of me on the walkway, but each time I tried to pass over the wooden bridge, I would reach the far side and then get… stuck. Something was in the way. Something cool to the touch, large, with a rough texture, and completely invisible. Push as I might, I couldn't budge it. What the heck? I gave up after a while and decided to come back later.

Those living in Fortree were all a bit eccentric, but nice enough. One man I met along the walkways commented that I smelled singed, and asked if I'd been to a volcano. I could only nod slowly-very perceptive, but that was months ago. Another kid I bumped into said he'd met Steven. At the mention of the name, I felt that increasingly familiar sensation bubbling inside me, and blushed. Steven… oh Steven.

Returning to the hostel for lunch, I overheard some very good news on the TV. Apparently the government's implementation of the "one Pokémon, first Pokémon" policy had resulted in a population explosion of formerly "rare" Pokémon. With trainers only catching the first thing they found on each route, the more common Pokémon were becoming scarcer, and the less common becoming more abundant. Thus, a new order was now in effect: trainers could ignore Pokémon they encountered until their first meeting with a _new_ Pokémon-that is, one previously uncaught. Those wishing to re-catch a Pokémon they already had could do so if desired, but with discretion. The government called it the Duplicates Clause, and it made my life a _lot_ easier. Finally I wouldn't risk having to add yet another Zigzagoon or Numel to my group. From here on, I'd be enjoying a bit more flexibility in my team compositions.

Having little else to do in town, I climbed down on the other side of the woods and entered Route 120. Time to add a new Pokémon to my collection. The first one I met was a sweet little Oddish. It stared at me with its big eyes, cheeped, "Odd?", and then emitted a cloud of sleep spores. I avoided inhaling and had Polaris use **sonicboom** to weaken it before catching it. Welcome aboard, Tip the Oddish.

Route 120 consisted mainly of high grasses, so tall that I couldn't see out once I stepped into them. I skirted around the outside edges of the fields, battling trainers now and again, as I made my way south. Soon I came across a bridge. And who should be standing on it but that heartthrob, Steven Stone, the Pokémon League Champion?

He greeted me as I approached. "Hello! Uh… your name again was…"

I blushed. "Lidya."

"Lidya! Right! It's been a while!" He smiled good-naturedly. "Just passing through?"

"I am."

"Well, don't let me slow you down." He held out his arm, gesturing for me to proceed past him. I started to walk by, but just after passing him I bumped headlong into another invisible barrier. The shock made me start, and I stumbled backward, falling on my butt. The bridge swung chaotically from the impact.

Steven laughed. "Sorry, I couldn't resist a little prank!" He helped me up with a gloved hand. "There's something here you can't see, right?"

I rubbed my shoulder where I'd collided with the object and nodded, feeling vexed. He was being a little callous.

"Here, try this." Steven handed me a small device. It looked like an unextended spyglass. "This is the Devon Scope. Go on, take a look."

I accepted it and peered through, then gasped: there was a Pokémon standing right next to us! It was a tall green lizard, and when it noticed me staring, it let out a hiss and attacked. I staggered back, barely avoiding the thin claws.

"Use your Pokémon!" Steven cried excitedly. "Show me what you've got as a trainer!"

I took a few steps away, the bridge shaking beneath me as I readied Hotwings' ball and threw it. The Pokémon kept coming, but Hotwings was there to block it, and I was safe. I ordered him to use **ember**. The flames hit the foe, but what was this? The lizard began to change color, shifting from green to red. Little puffs of flame rippled from its nostrils. Was it a fire type? Hotwings delivered a **double kick** at my command, and now the red color faded, replaced instead by a fighting stance. This Pokémon was weird. I commanded Hotwings to kick again, and the second strike was enough to knock the lizard off the bridge, into the river below. Phew.

"What the hell Steven?" I shouted, losing my temper. "Why didn't you warn me?"

"A truly powerful trainer is always at the ready," Steven replied stoically, not really looking at me. "Feel free to hang onto the Devon Scope. There might be more Kecleon around here. Until we meet again!" He released a massive Skarmory from its ball and climbed astride the steel back. Off into the air he flew, leaving me standing on the bridge, bubbling with rage.

How _dare_ he? My life could've been in danger! And for what-a laugh? I started to dislike Steven from that moment. My prior feelings for him melted away, replaced with loathing. He was so condescending, so proud, so superior… what a dick.

An hour or so later, I ran into Gabby and Ty again, the reporter and cameraman duo I'd fought previously. Unlike Steven, they remembered me.

"Lidya!" Gabby exclaimed, shaking my hand earnestly. "Can we battle you again? We had so much fun last time!"

"Uh, sure." We fought, and I won. It wasn't much of a challenge, although the double battle format did throw me for a moment since I had less experience with it. After the battle, Gabby pushed a mic into my face. "Great fight! Can I get a comment? Just a one word summary of the battle, okay?"

One word, huh? I thought about it. "Strategy," I finally said.

Gabby nodded sagely, as if this were what she expected to hear. "Good, good. Okay, look for our report on TV in a few days! Thanks Lidya, and good luck!" They bid me farewell and I continued on my way, soon turning back to Fortree.

Taking my comment to heart, I considered my team. Only one of my Pokémon stood much of a chance against the flying types I knew I'd be facing in Fortree (Roxanne had warned me about Winona, the queen of the skies, and her dragon/flying type Altaria). I needed something else, but I'd already caught Pokémon everywhere I was able to do so. How else could I get an electric or ice type?

Ice type. Hm. That gave me an idea. Something I remembered reading after the Weather Institute. I opened D3X and studied up: _ENTRY NUMBER 351. POKÉMON NAME: CASTFORM. TYPE: VARIABLE (CASTFORM TRANSFORMS ITSELF TO REFLECT THE CURRENT WEATHER CONDITIONS. CAN BECOME FIRE, WATER, OR ICE TYPE)._

Bingo.

* * *

"Prepare to die!" a young boy screamed. I looked around to see the source, but found only trees. Then one of the trees folded itself up-a disguise! A young boy dressed as a ninja emerged, Pokéball at the ready. "You go no further!" His face was entirely obscured by a mask.

"I don't think so!" I replied, sending out Serenity, my Swablu. She needed to get a bit stronger before we tried the Gym, in case I needed to use her. Unfortunately, it seemed Fate had other ideas.

"Go, Koffing!" A purple ball of gas and smoke appeared. Serenity and Koffing tangled round and round, until- "Self-destruct!"

"No!" I howled, running forward. But it was too late. Serenity chirped at me dumbly, then flapped her wings, blowing me backward to safety. The Koffing exploded. When the smoke and dust cleared, only a handful of blue feathers remained. She was dead.

The kid gripped his mask and pulled it off, revealing his face. "Ha ha ha! I swore I'd have revenge on you, and now I did!"

My jaw dropped. "You're that little punk from Route 118, aren't you?" Red flooded my vision. "Two Pokémon you've stolen from me now!" I tugged the shoulder of my shirt aside, revealing the spidery purple scar there. "And you're responsible for this too!"

Now it was his turn to look shocked. "What _is_ that?"

"When you blew up my Crobat, one of his teeth got embedded in my shoulder. I was in the hospital for a week."

The ninja boy looked briefly conflicted, but then broke into a laugh. "Well, now my revenge is complete! So too bad for you!"

I could contain myself no longer. I tackled him and began punching, not stopping until my hand was covered in blood from his nose and lip. I ignored his cries and supplications, thinking only of my sweet flying Pokémon, taken well before their time. My hand burned with pain as I struck again and again. I felt his teeth go into my skin, felt his blood mingle with my own.

When at last I'd satisfied my anger, I let him go and stood. He lay on the dirt, bleeding and moaning, his face a mess of red and bruises. I didn't care even a little bit.

As he lay there, I spotted a small pack next to his tree disguise. I rummaged through and located his Trainer Card and Pokédex. I picked them up and, with a grunt and a mighty throw, hurled them into the river. They sank. Then I stood over the boy, arms folded. "Did you learn your lesson?"

"Uugghh," he groaned.

"You'd better hope we don't meet again. If we do, I'll fucking kill you." I turned on my heel and marched back toward town, simultaneously fuming and crying. My heart was beating nonstop-such anger in me felt weird and scary. Once out of sight of the boy, I rinsed the blood from my hands in the river, and made my way back to the hostel, depressed and afraid. Was I a violent person at heart? No, he deserved it. And I didn't mean it when I said I'd kill him. I was just angry.

I dreamt of explosions and fire.

I felt better the next morning. It was still hard to get up and go, knowing that yet another of my trusted companions was gone forever, but I felt the only way to get over the loss was to claim a bigger victory to compensate.

So I faced down Winona, the Gym Leader.

The battle was intense. Her first few Pokémon did not fare well against Polaris: electricity jolted them out of the sky. My final opponent, however, proved more interesting, and all my work in preparing Castform for this battle was worth it in the end.

"Go! Altaria!" Winona cried. She was tall and lanky, with beautiful long hair and fair skin. A dazzling blue bird surrounded in a puffy cloud appeared, calling out its name.

"Polaris, return," I said calmly. This is what I'd been getting ready for. "Castform, take it away."

Castform emerged, looking far too much like a lumpy gray teardrop with eyes. I ordered **hail**, and was pleased to see Castform summon a small dark cloud above our heads. Little pellets of ice began to fall. Before our eyes, Castform changed: now he looked like a blue crystal resting on a green cloud.

"**Dragon dance**!" Winona ordered. Altaria let out a cry as swirls of red and blue fire spun around her body. Increased speed and strength-not good for me.

"Castform, use **weather ball**!" This was a trick I'd learned from the scientists back at the Weather Institute, when they'd gifted me the Pokémon. **Weather ball** changes to match the weather, and sure enough, Castform unleashed a large orb of ice. It hurtled toward Altaria, and in one solid hit, downed the foe. Flying and dragon type-a double weakness to ice. Just as I'd planned.

"Very impressive! You're bound to soar quite high, Lidya," Winona told me. "Here, take the badge and this TM." Winona explained that the badge was all I needed in order to get a flight license. Turning to walk away, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. None of my Pokémon had died. Was this the first Gym Leader I'd defeated with no casualties? Could my luck be changing?

I scurried to the hostel with my prize, thinking about my next move. The only Pokémon I'd had capable of carrying me on its back was dead, thanks to that little ninja punk. Before I could soar through the skies, I needed to find a ride. Fortunately, a careful examination of my town map provided an answer: the Safari Zone.

I traveled south and east to Route 121, a lovely little path that skirted around both sides of a small lake. With some careful observation, I managed to spy a section of tall grass on an isle in the lake's center. Sadly, my only reward was a Linoone—Zigzagoon's evolved form, and thus not much use. Drat.

Many trainers lined the lake on all sides, their sharp eyes seeking challengers. I fought a woman who called herself a Hex Maniac. Between her black dress, crazy, scraggly hair, and insane cackling and twitching, I'd say she'd taken on an apt descriptor. I also encountered a surprisingly familiar face: it was the Beauty I'd seen months ago, on my first trip through Petalburg Woods. She was the one who'd mentioned Steven's presence in Rustboro. I defeated her soundly, and didn't bother mentioning our past encounter.

One other event happened on my way west: an encounter with Team Aqua. It was from a distance. At the place where the path branched south toward the misty hill known as Mt. Pyre (thank you Town Map), I spotted a group of Aqua goons climbing aboard Carvanha and Sharpedo to **surf** to the mountain.

Not my problem. Seriously this time. Not my problem. I kept walking.

After a night on the trail, I found myself standing before the towering gates to the Safari Zone. The tagline at the base of the sign made me chuckle: "Welcome to the jungle."

"Greetings from the Safari Zone! Have you been here before?" a pleasant attendant asked me as I approached the front desk.

"Nope."

"Well, let me go over the rules," he said. "In keeping with local ordinance, you are limited in the number of Pokémon you can catch and take home. There are three caps," and here he pointed to a simple cartoon diagram on the wall, "that must be followed. The limit is 30 safari balls, 50 minutes, or 6 Pokémon, whichever comes first. After your first game, you can't take any more Pokémon home with you—although you're welcome to come back for catch and release any time!"

"Seems simple enough. How much for a round?" I paid the man, signed a waiver—something about death and dismemberment… I wasn't really paying attention. The man studied my paperwork, but looked up in alarm as I started for the door.

"Hold on Miss Pine!" the man called. "Your Pokéballs, please."

"Huh?"

"You can't take them into the Safari Zone."

"You mean… it's just me and the wild Pokémon?"

"Of course! Can't have trainers beating up all our wildlife, can we? Ha ha!"

I was getting a little sick of his chipper instructions, but handed over the strap that held my Pokémon. Reluctantly. "They'll be here when I get back, right?" I put on my most menacing face.

The attendant studied me, his mouth turning down with unease. His eyes jumped to the Crobat fang hanging around my neck, and the slight tinge of purpled skin peeking out from the cut of my jacket. "Of course, miss. They'll be locked in this locker here." He put them inside a locker and handed me the key. "Nothing to worry about."

"Good."

"Go on in." I stepped through the doorway… and into the wild.

* * *

The Safari Zone was a kitschy nightmare. Tiki torches lined the narrow grass avenues. Obviously sculpted areas of "habitat" littered the landscape like holes on a mini-golf course. I shifted the bag of Pokéballs at my hip and began looking for prey. D3X's screen filled with a variety of information about the Pokémon to be found here—promotional data courtesy of the Zone's owners, no doubt. It listed Mew as one of the possible catches, albeit with a .000001% chance of encounter. I figured the odds were slightly exaggerated.

I set my PokéNav to warn me when forty-five minutes had passed, and started exploring. There were clear divisions between the various sections—mountain, plain, swamp, beach, lake, and so on. I wandered a bit, not sure how to approach wild Pokémon without one of my own. My skin prickled with cold perspiration, despite the sunlight.

Nearby, I heard a sudden crash. A man ran shrieking out of the underbrush with an adolescent Rhyhorn on his tail. I quickly dashed aside, and watched the beast as it lashed out toward him, nearly connecting. They disappeared into the trees.

Well, if I weren't jumpy before…

"Dish!" a tiny voice yipped. I let out a scream and leapt three feet in the air. Without looking, I hurled a Safari Ball in the direction of the noise, and staggered backward, my heart pounding. The ball connected, closed, shook, and sat. I'd caught something.

I checked the readout, allowing myself to breathe for the first time in minutes.

"Oddish?" I grumbled. "Dammit." I already had one of those. Oh well. I named her Blossom.

My further adventures in the Safari Zone were much less exciting. I had no further issues with wild Pokémon; in fact, they were surprisingly docile. Perhaps that man had aggravated the Rhyhorn. The total haul I took home from the trip was as follows: Blossom the Oddish, Geoffrey the Girafarig, Donald the Psyduck, Norman the Rhyhorn (so named because the Pokédex entry noted it as a "slow, dumb Pokémon", and I was feeling vindictive), and Meg and Mog the Doduo (two heads, two names). Before I could catch a sixth, my timer went off and I had to return to the gate. My Pokéballs were returned and I headed east, but not before swinging by the PC in the corner. Swapping Castform for Meg and Mog, I found myself in a good position: this new bird could carry me easily. Now to get a flight license.

Route 121 soon gave way to the seaside splendor of Lilycove City, the easternmost town on the big island of Hoenn. The remaining four towns I'd visit were located on extant islands, the distant green of which I could just barely make out in the afternoon light. The city rested on a slope, with cute brick facades and a towering department store on the north side of town. I could see ships docked at the extensive port, and just beyond them the harbor leading out into the open ocean. Plumes of water flew into the air along one side of the cove—what was making those? I didn't know.

Without missing a beat, I headed to the Pokémon Center and located the flight office. There was one in every town, but until now I'd had no reason to visit.

"Welcome! Come on in," said a cheerful young woman. Different accents even within Hoenn, I noticed. I handed her my trainer card and badges. "Mmhmm, looks like you're all set Miss Pine. Let's get you the form." I filled out a few pages of paperwork releasing the Center from any liability in case I fell to my death or whatnot. I tried not to think about that possibility. People flew on Pokémon all the time. It had to be safe enough.

"So how does it all work?" I asked, trying to sound cool.

She smiled kindly. "Your Pokémon receives either a scent sample or a magnetic signature—depending on species—of each town you visit. Once they have that, you just give them the command to **fly** you to the town you want, and they'll go right to it."

"So wait, I can't direct the Pokémon in flight?"

"Only the most skilled trainers are capable of doing that. It's simply too dangerous otherwise." She patted my shoulder in a motherly fashion. "You won't have any trouble. You look like you can handle yourself." That made me smile. "Anyway," she continued. "You've got a Doduo, it says here?"

"Yes."

"Doduo, like many bird Pokémon, finds its way using magnetic senses. I've got magnetic codes for all the other major towns you've been to, based upon your Badge history. I'll go ahead and pass them to Doduo now." She took Meg and Mog's ball and placed it in a small machine, which hummed for a moment before ejecting the ball. "Okay, you're all set. Good luck!"

I couldn't wait to get airborne, but before I did, there was one last place I needed to visit: the department store. I knew my mom had a soft spot for Pokémon dolls, and the Lilycove City location was known for their exquisite selection. I headed toward the front doors.

"Not so fast!" a voice called. Brendan! "You owe me a battle!" He appeared as if from nowhere, Pokéball in hand.

"What for?" I retorted.

"That HM I gave you. No free lunch!" He was smiling in his stupidly charming way. I brushed my hands down my clothes to smooth them, not quite knowing why.

"All right hotshot, let's see what you've got," I said, drawing Hotwings.

It was, as always, an easy victory for me.

"Damn," Brendan muttered. He looked slightly crestfallen, but something sparkled in his eyes as he returned my triumphant stare. "Got me again, Pine."

"Always will, Birch," I grinned back.

He scooted a little closer to me, offering a handful of coins. "Here. Prize money." When I reached out to take it, he grabbed my wrist.

"Hey!"

"I just wanted to ask you something," he said quietly, in a tone of voice wholly unusual for him. "About what happened the other day. When you kissed me."

I immediately blushed. "Oh, that. Um, haha. I dunno what that was about."

He looked crestfallen. "What? Really?"

"I'd just escaped from the clutches of Team Aqua, okay? I was feeling overwhelmed and I was so happy to see a familiar face."

Brendan released his gentle grip on my arm. "I see." With that, he shuffled his Pokéballs around in his shoulder bag and turned to go. "It was good to see you Lidya." Off he went, walking steadily toward the Pokémon Center, the way I'd come from.

I shrugged. What was his deal? It was just one little kiss.

The Lilycove Department Store lived up to its reputation as a fine shopping establishment. Every section was packed to the brim with amazing goods. I lamented my lack of funds—there were a lot of cute trainer accessories! I settled for a sweet little Torchic doll for my mother.

Exiting the department store, I checked my PokéNav. The woman at the Pokécenter had taken the liberty of upgrade its capabilities for me, so now the town map also included estimated flight times between cities. Littleroot was quite some distance away on foot—almost a full week at a good pace—but by air it took only six hours. What a boost! I could hardly wait.

"Go, Meg and Mog!" I hollered to no one, releasing my Doduo. "Ready girls?"

Doduo nodded as if in understanding. "Duo!" one head squawked.

"Great. Let's roll." I carefully navigated my way up the side of the two-headed beast, feeling squiggy at the sensation of tiny feathers beneath my body. I could comfortably sit on Meg and Mog's back and even spread out a bit, that's how big they were. But I had no other means of hanging on, save for the necks of the birds. Perhaps I'd need a saddle. They didn't seem to mind, though, so I clung to their throats and readied my Go-Goggles. Yet another handy use for these—thank you Brendan!

"Meg and Mog, let's **fly** to Littleroot!" I cried.

Immediately we were off and running, and the ground zipped past as their feet pounded its soil, and the wings began to move, and I held on in slight terror, and suddenly we were lifting off, we were going up, airborne, flying, flying up and up and over the grass and trees, and I saw Lilycove beginning to disappear behind me as we gained a bit of altitude, until now the trees below looked thumb-sized and the people like dots, and I felt the wind rushing by my ears, roaring at me, unwelcoming, but I knew it wouldn't harm me now, knew I was safe astride my faithful Pokémon, and in no time I'd be home, home with my mom, snug in my own bed, and on we flew, over blue and green and brown, the crest of Mt. Chimney ever-present on the horizon, and I felt free, freer than I'd ever been, free to roam the skies, free to go anywhere, to do anything, to become anyone!


	15. To The Grave

**Chapter 15: To The Grave**

My mother welcomed me home with open arms, overjoyed at my unexpected arrival. It was just evening when I landed, chilled but excited. She brought me inside and busied herself preparing dinner. I presented the Torchic doll, to her delight. It was a good evening.

The next day I slept in. As I arrived at the breakfast table, Mom informed me, "Mrs. Birch told me your friend Brendan got in late last night. You should go see him! I'll bet you haven't seen him in ages!"

I thought about correcting her, but didn't feel like bothering. "Yeah, sure."

I went over there after breakfast and was admitted by Mrs. Birch. Taking the steps two at a time, I knocked on Brendan's door. I was feeling oddly excited about seeing him again.

"Lidya!" he exclaimed, letting me inside. "What's up?" He closed the door behind me, but did not lock it.

"Nothing," I said. Seeing his face gave me little Butterfrees in my stomach. What was that about? "Just saying hi."

"Oh. Hi." He went and sat on his bed, which was unmade.

I sat beside him. I was feeling a lot of things, and all of them drew me toward him powerfully, almost magnetically. "Brendan, um," I said breathily, putting my hand on his. My heart was pounding. I felt suddenly disconnected from myself, like someone else was controlling my body. But I was okay with that. Starting, I realized when I'd felt this sensation in the past—with Axel, moments before Team Aqua burst in. Was… was I going to kiss Brendan?

Yes. Yes I was. _A lot._

It's a bit fuzzy now who made the first move. I think it was me, and for the sake of the story I'll say it was, but it might've been Brendan. Heck if I was paying much attention. It was my first makeout session ever; I sure as hell wasn't going to waste any moment of sensation on worrying about who started it. Our lips locked again and again, tongues awkwardly exploring, hands going wherever felt comfortable and mostly inoffensive, bodies twisted inelegantly at the hip, breath coming and going quickly. Our frantic saliva exchange lasted perhaps five minutes before Brendan went up for air.

"Lidya," he panted. "Forget about the Badges."

"What?" I said, smiling as I wiped spit from my warm lips. We were both panting a little. I felt giddy.

"Forget about the Badges. Let's just run away together with our Pokémon and see the world." He was looking me right in the face.

I laughed. "You serious right now?" But I didn't have to wait for a reply to know he was. His eyes told the whole story: how he'd been longing for this moment for some time now, how he'd been wanting me since that first day we met. How he was ready to give up his dream of the Pokémon League if it meant being with me.

"I mean it. We can both **fly** now. Let's just go. Let's be free. We can go to Johto, to Kanto, maybe even to Unova or Kalos or Sinnoh…"

And I had to face, suddenly and for the first time, a truly monumentous decision. Keep fighting? Give up and see where Brendan might take me? I felt the pressure of the choice land on my shoulders like a Wailord. "Whoa Brendan. That's a big request."

"I know, I know." The lust was beginning to subside for both of us, and I knew he was considering whether he'd gone too far, played his hand too soon.

"Brendan," I said quietly, feeling surprisingly lucid, "look. Doing, um, this with you, doing this has been really nice. Yeah. But look, I can't just give up my dream. I want to be the Champion. I want to go all the way to the Pokémon League, and I want to beat Steven. And I _will_. But I can't give up now. My mom is counting on me." A vision passed over my eyes: a glimpse of the Pokémon who'd fallen in battle under my command. I shook it away. "I've _got_ to keep going."

Brendan took a deep breath, and nodded. "It was dumb of me to ask."

"No, no! It's okay," I said soothingly. "I'm glad you did."

He smiled meekly. "So, are we still friends?"

"Of course." I squeezed his hand.

"More than friends?"

"I… I don't know if that's a good idea right now." I was flying blind here—most of my romantic knowledge came from old books, and the rest from stupid movies and TV shows. "I need time to figure out who I am. I need time to find myself." That was almost a direct quote from a film! Gross, Lidya.

"You're right," Brendan sighed. "Okay." After a beat, he continued, "Well, I won't be going out for a while."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not like you. Not really. Getting whomped so many times showed me that I'm maybe not cut out for this."

"Brendan, you beat all the same Gym Leaders as me!"

"Yeah, but I didn't beat _you_." His words hit like a punch.

I felt remorseful. "I… I'm, uh… I'm sorry Brendan."

He waved his hand at me. "It's okay. It's not your fault. You're really skilled at battling, Lidya, and I'm just… less skilled. So that's fine." He smiled again. "You'll make it to the League for both of us."

That made me feel better. "Yeah!" I glanced at his wall clock. "It's getting a bit late. I should go." Not wanting to, I stood. "What will you do now?"

"I want to help my dad with his research. So I'll be working around the lab." He sounded cheerful. Hugging me, he added, "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

_What maturity! …_is what I would've felt now. Instead, I thought only of getting out of there. "Okay. Well… see ya." I kissed him roughly on the mouth and departed, hoping his mom wouldn't notice my flushed skin.

* * *

My next stop that day was Rustboro. It was only a couple hours away, so I phoned ahead and set up a lunch date with Roxanne. She was quite taken aback when I told her about Brendan—and come to think of it, I'm not really sure why I did. I guess I just really wanted to tell _someone_.

"Lidya," she asked me carefully, "do you like Brendan that way? I mean, do you want to be his girlfriend?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I dunno. I liked kissing him. But I meant it when I said I had a mission to complete."

"Hm," she replied, nodding. "Well, I won't say I haven't kissed a few boys in my time… and more." Now she was leaning in conspiratorially, and blushing a little.

"More?" I asked shyly. Knowing what I did about my own body and it's reactions to, shall we say, _touch_, I had a slight speculation about what she meant. But her description of the encounters she'd had blew me away. I knew what sex was in the abstract. Hearing about it live, in person, from a friend, that was a different thing altogether. And yes, it seemed the graffiti on her Gym sign was _definitely_ accurate.

We talked for a few hours. I absorbed every word like a sponge, eager to know as much I as I could. Eager to arm myself against any future… danger? Temptation? I wasn't sure what I'd do if given the opportunity, but I certainly knew where I might find such a chance, if I wanted it. Brendan would be waiting.

After lunch, I ordered Meg and Mog to **fly** me back to Lilycove. We landed after nightfall, and I quickly checked back into my room at the trainer hostel. Needed to get sleep right away. I had a big day ahead—my next goal was Mt. Pyre.

* * *

Backtracking along Route 122, I found myself looking southward at a vast peak shrouded in perpetual mist and surrounded by gray, inky water. Mt. Pyre was known across Hoenn as a dark, haunted place, but it was a regular pilgrimage site for many trainers for one very good reason: the bodies of dead Pokémon are interred there. Any Pokémon that falls in a regulation battle is allowed to be sent there for burial or cremation, at the expense of the trainer whose Pokémon dealt the killing blow.

I was going to visit some old friends.

But first I had to **surf** over. Ms. Splish was happy to oblige, and we cruised the waves. Just then I heard the familiar screeching call of a Wingull. Realizing this was technically a different route, I quickly caught it and welcomed Gulliver to the team. A water and flying type was a great asset—now if the unthinkable happened to Ms. Splish or Meg and Mog, I wouldn't be completely screwed.

Mt. Pyre is only a fraction of the height of Mt. Chimney, Hoenn's central volcano, but it cuts an imposing figure when it's all you can see. Getting closer brought me into a fog bank as thick as any I'd ever experienced. I guided Ms. Splish around the sheer cliff edges until we spotted the front gates—a pair of ancient iron porticos, left open for travelers.

I dismounted there and extracted an extra coat from my bag, already shivering. This place was cold as death.

Inside I encountered no attendant or desk help; just graves, row upon row of graves, each marked with a little headstone. There was a directory in a computer at the front, which I figured served as all the reception this place needed. The listings of burial locations were sortable by trainer, by date, or by species, and the grave system itself was cleverly separated into multiple floors and sections. I clicked _Trainer_ and winced as I studied my listings.

_Name: Suzie. Species: Beautifly. Date of death: May 10th, 2014._

_Name: Noguri. Species: Zigzagoon. Date of death: May 28th, 2014._

_Name: Crystal. Species: Surskit. Date of death: June 5th, 2014._

_Name: Tina. Species: Whismur. Date of death: June 18th, 2014._

_Name: Brad. Species: Graveler. Date of death: July 11th, 2014._

_Name: Breaker. Species: Manectric. Date of death: September 2nd, 2014._

It saddened me even more to notice Count and Serenity's names missing from the list. But they'd died in "unofficial" battles, so there was no way to have them interred here. Not that there was much left to inter after they way they'd gone…

I took down the grave numbers and wandered out into the rows, shivering. My eyes filled with tears when I found Breaker's grave. I wasn't alone, though: just a few markers down was another trainer, crying. I gave him some space as I progressed from stone to stone. Brad, Tina, Crystal, Noguri… but where was Suzie? I checked the number again. Her monument was outside, higher up the mountain.

Progressing through the remainder of the hallways and gravestones was an odd experience. I encountered a number of trainers who were eager to battle rather than mourn, and while I was in no mood, I also had no choice. After defeating my third foe, I wondered grimly what would happen if someone's Pokémon fell in battle here, within the very walls of their final resting place.

Excitingly, Meg and Mog evolved during one battle, becoming the three-headed bird Dodrio. I named the third head Mo.

I also picked up a ton of spare incense as I went, no doubt left behind by all the "psychics" and "mediums" I was fighting. I sniffed each box of sticks carefully, making sure it was a smell I enjoyed.

Of note was an encounter I had with a ghost-type Pokémon. I hadn't seen or fought one before, and it was… creepy. The Pokémon was Shuppet, a small purple being that resembled a hand puppet. It darted from side to side with unearthly speed, chattering in a tiny voice. I weakened it and caught the creature, naming it Persephone. Yes, I've read some classics, thank you.

Reaching the highest floor yet, I was surprised to find an exit to an outdoor section of the graveyard. Suzie was buried somewhere out there, according to the numbering system, but I hadn't expected to have to go back into the cold and fog for a while yet. I took a deep breath, shuffled deeper into my coat, and ventured upward.

It was eerie and silent. The mist was so thick that I couldn't see more than a few meters ahead. Large, ancient gravestones loomed around me like giants, poised to crush me with a fist. I began to breathe a little faster. What was lurking just beyond my vision in the haunted silence of this place? I'd heard tales of truly horrifying ghost Pokémon rising from the graves of the dead—up until now I'd only found Shuppet, but I was worried.

It turned out I had something more pressing—and dumber—to fret about: Team Aqua. I first encountered some of their goons on the second tier of the outside section.

"Hey, you there, trainer," one of them barked. "This area is closed. Scram."

"Make me," I hissed back, not even waiting to release Hotwings.

Aqua Grunt after Aqua Grunt lost to me, each cursing Hotwings and his furious kicks. I barely broke a sweat. But my heart was full of horror as I observed what Team Aqua had done: to my left and right, as far as I could see, were disturbed graves. Several goons carried dirty shovels, and the caskets of many Pokémon had been smashed open, revealing dusty bones within.

A few battles later, I stumbled upon something I'd hoped not to see. It was Suzie's grave… and it was open. Being a bug type, Suzie's body decomposed into a fragile exoskeleton, and the shattered remnants of this are what I saw in a disheveled heap on the dirt bottom of the grave. I felt hot tears come to my eyes and wiped them back. They'd pay for this. Now it _was_ my problem.

"At last!" a familiar voice boomed, as I reached the summit of Mt. Pyre a few minutes later. Archie. I stepped out from behind a gravestone with a Pokéball ready, a vengeful glare in my eye.

"You bastard," I snarled. "Defiling the graves of Pokémon? You're sick!"

"Not you again…" Archie groaned as he turned to look at me. I noted a shriveled old man and old man standing behind him, cowering in fear. "You've impeded our plans repeatedly, but this time you're too late. The Red Orb hidden in a grave atop Mt. Pyre... I, Archie, claim it as mine! Hahaha!"

He held aloft a softball-sized sphere of shimmering red crystal. "Finally, I can realize my grand design... Come on, crew! We're off!" Turning again to me, he pointed a gnarled finger. "If you know what's good for you, you'll steer clear."

"Unlikely," I snapped back.

He hadn't heard me. He and the other grunts were climbing aboard winged Pokémon. Damn, they were getting away! Where were they headed with that gemstone? I didn't know what it was for, but if they'd been bold enough to disturb dozens of graves here to get it, it must be important.

As usual, I did something totally reckless. One young grunt was climbing astride a Swellow. I charged and tackled him off the bird, throwing both of us to the grass. He coughed and shrieked as I held him to the ground with my elbow. "Give up!" I snapped. "Give up or I swear I'll fucking poison you." I slipped the Crobat fang necklace off my head and held the tooth near his throat. "One prick with this and you're dead." Luck was with me: he bought it.

"I'll talk!" he whined, tears streaming from his eyes. I pulled the tooth away, but didn't let him get up.

"Where are you headed?"

The goon sniffled the snot running from his nose. "Slateport."

"Why?"

"We're going to steal a submarine."

"What for?"

"I don't know, I swear! They never told me!" He appeared genuinely terrified of me.

"I think we can answer that, miss," the old man said as he and the woman came hustling up.

"Yes?" I released my chokehold on the grunt, allowing him to climb to his feet. He took a tentative step backward and then, seeing that I wasn't following, ran to his Swellow and took off.

"They plan to awaken a great monster. A terrible Pokémon, aeons old," the man explained in a raspy voice.

"Huh," I said. "Well, can't have that. I'd better get to Slateport."

"You're going to go after them, then?" the man asked. His weathered face was full of trepidation and anxiety, as was his counterpart's. "You'll fight them?"

"I'll _end_ them," I said hotly.

The man nodded and whispered something to the woman. "Take this," she said. "It's the Blue Orb. With it, you'll be able to calm Kyogre." She offered me an orb identical to the one Archie had taken, but brilliant azure in color.

"Kyogre?"

"The two orbs were never meant to be apart. With them separated, there's no telling what the consequences might be. Groudon or Kyogre could awaken, if their hiding places are found. If that were to happen… I shudder to think of it!"

I could see the terror in her eyes. "Okay. I'll hold onto it."

"Good luck," the man said firmly.

I nodded, having nothing more to say. Releasing Meg/Mog/Mo, I climbed astride my winged, three-headed steed. "Slateport," I ordered, and moments later my Pokémon and I were airborne, rising up and up through fog until suddenly we burst clear of it, into blinding daylight, off into the sky with a mission, with others counting on me, with unknown danger waiting just over the horizon.


	16. Sub Trouble

**Chapter 16: Sub Trouble**

It took a few hours to reach Slateport, during which I thought about what I'd seen. Team Aqua had stolen something from Mt. Pyre, presumably by digging it up from a grave. Kyogre was involved. What was Kyogre? The man had said it was a Pokémon, but D3X had nothing about it. What did they hope to achieve by "awakening" it? I had no answers, but as I rubbed the blue orb, I felt as though I'd learn soon enough.

An ominous, dreadful unease gathered in my mind, so I quickly shoved the orb into my pack.

Upon landing at the Pokémon Center, I noticed a large crowd gathered near the Museum. I headed that way, preparing myself for the worst.

Instead, I found Captain Stern being interviewed by Gabby and Ty, the trainer reporters I'd battled a few times before. He recognized me as I pushed through the crowd. "Ah, hello!" he cheered. "I know you from your picture. You must be that trainer who kicked those Team Aqua thugs out of the Museum a few months ago. I was just talking about how you saved the project!"

"What project?" I asked.

"The submarine, of course! It's finally ready to launch!" He was beaming, and the crowd seemed quite excited as well.

_Submarine!_ I thought. _I've got to warn him!_

"Could you two pose together? We need a photo," Gabby asked. She held up a camera. "For the print edition."

Without waiting for me to move, Stern put his arm around my shoulder and turned toward the camera. The bulb flashed. "Ack!" I spat, blinded. "Captain, listen! Team Aqua is going to steal your submarine!"

"What?" he grunted. "Nonsense! You kids and your stories…"

A piercing screech caused everyone in the mob to clutch at their ears. It stopped after a moment, and a voice began speaking through a loudspeaker: "Hahaha... I commend you, Lidya Pine! All that effort you spent following me all the way from Mt. Pyre. But now... No one can stop us! No one!" There was a tremendous splashing sound from the harbor, just a few hundred meters from us, and the shape of the submarine could be seen moving through the dark water, diving downward.

"No!" Stern yelped. "Someone… stop them!"

The crowd dispersed immediately, some people running in fear, others readying water type Pokémon and heading for the harbor. But it was too late—the submarine was already gone, out of sight and far too deep for anyone to pursue by normal means. I did notice one or two people dive beneath the waves with their Pokémon… and not come up again. Were they insane? Suicidal? …But suddenly they burst to the surface, looking no worse for the wear. How? Was that a special hidden move I'd one day learn?

"Miss," Stern said, turning to me. "You've got to go after them!"

"How?"

"The submarine has a tracking device," the bumbling captain began, pulling out a small transceiver from his jacket, "but… they've disabled it. Blast."

Gabby and Ty were getting every moment of this on film. I felt a bit of cynical pleasure on their behalf—this was sure to be a good scoop.

Where could Team Aqua be headed? Suddenly, a recollection: Axel, standing beside me in the hallway of the Weather Institute: _"__I heard them say they want to take it to their base in…"_

Lilycove Harbor.

"I'll get your submarine back, Captain," I stated, releasing Meg/Mog/Mo and climbing aboard once again. "Lilycove," I whispered to the bird, and before Stern could say another word, we were gone, off on our way. We flew for a few hours, reaching Lilycove just before sundown.

"You get one night's reprieve," I growled in the direction of the harbor. I needed sleep, and my Pokémon needed rest. Time to hit the hostel. It was a restless night, however: I kept dreaming of a dark, shadowy place, deep underwater, and two glowing red eyes peering at me from the inky black.

* * *

The next morning, I clambered aboard Ms. Splish and began scouting the harbor. It didn't take long to find the entrance to their base.

"Intruder!" a grunt yelped. Hotwings kicked his Golbat in its huge, slobbering face. A Poochyena was next, and it got off a lucky bite. Hotwings growled.

"**Ember**!" Fire spilled from his beak. The dog fell.

"Argh! You beat my Pokémon… but I can still stop you!" the Grunt cried. He charged toward me, arms outstretched to grab me. I gasped and let out a shriek. It seemed as though a blinding light were suddenly filling my eyes. I stumbled back, preparing my body for the tackle.

_Wham!_ Hotwings connected with a blazing kick, launching the Grunt across the room. He collided with the cave wall and slid to the floor with a _thump_, knocked out. I turned to look at my savior, and saw that the light was no illusion: Hotwings had evolved into Blaziken! He stood a head taller than me now, with thick, muscular legs and a mask-like, V-shaped set of red feathers on his face. His wrists were adorned with brilliant patches of fiery plumage.

"Hotwings!" I said excitedly. "You… wow. Thanks." Hotwings squawked cheerfully and allowed me to pet his head. "Guess I'd better keep you by my side in here."

It turned out to be the right choice. Every trainer I fought from there forward became hostile and violent after the battle, forcing me to rely on Hotwings for protection. Some of them remembered me from Mt. Pyre or the Weather Institute, and I heard all manner of invective thrown my way—_"You little bitch! I'll fucking kill you!"_ That sort of thing.

But, in the end, I prevailed, and reached the entrance to the base proper. The facility was a technological wonderland, full to the brim with brushed steel, blinking lights, and exposed wiring. I wondered how Team Aqua had afforded all this. Had they stolen it? Smuggled it in from the mainland? These kinds of materials couldn't be so abundant in Hoenn as to allow for a structure of this size. Perhaps Archie was rich? I mused over this as I explored the compound, taking out Grunt after Grunt. They knew I was coming, but could do little against Hotwings and his furious feet.

At one point, I stumbled upon what appeared to be the generator room. Four Electrode were hooked into a massive rotating machine that hummed and buzzed and sparked. _Why not catch one?_ I thought. No authorities to stop me down here. Those Pokémon were probably stolen anyway. I engaged the first of the four in battle, but—just to be safe—I sent out Polaris. His ability to paralyze foes and slowly weaken them with **sonicboom **would be invaluable, and I'd already had a flashback of Tina fighting Watson's Voltorb.

Turned out to be the right choice. Not thirty seconds into the battle, the Electrode began to hum and glow. I hit the floor and covered my head and ears. _Boom!_ When I looked up again, there hovered Polaris in the smoke, unscathed. Hooray for steel types!

The other three Electrode went the same way: I couldn't damage them enough for a Pokéball before they blew themselves up. What a sad way to go.

As the last of the four erupted into flames, the generator let out a low drone and stopped spinning. The lights flickered, then went dark. I began to breathe faster in the pitch black—why hadn't I anticipated this? But then the lights came back on, all in red. Emergency power. I let out a sigh of relief, glad that I wouldn't have to navigate this place in the dark.

Continuing my exploration, I noted an oddity: no more trainers. The rooms were all empty now. I rifled through a larger room—perhaps an executive's office—and found something totally unexpected: an empty Pokéball. But this one was different. Instead of red, it had purple, and there was a large M emblazoned on the top. I spied a small pamphlet underneath it, and began to read: _Congratulations on the purchase of your new Master Ball! This ball is guaranteed to catch any wild Pokémon without fail. We hope you put it to good use. Regards, Rocket Research Collective (RRC)._

Rocket… like Team Rocket? From the mainland? I didn't know much about them, but I knew enough to be worried.

Still, a Pokéball that could catch any Pokémon? Yes please. I pocketed it.

I'm gonna go ahead and save you some suspense: Instead of using the Master Ball to catch a Pokémon, I pawned it for a Max Elixir. More on that later.

It wasn't long before I encountered the leadership: Admin Matt, the bare-chested bruiser I'd last encountered atop Mt. Chimney. He remembered me, too. He was standing with his back to a large tank of water, which I assumed was meant to house the submarine.

"Hey you little punk, what do you think you're doing? Think you can just disrupt our plans?" he growled, drawing his Pokéballs.

"Yup." Hotwings obliterated his team—not permanently, as I still wasn't the killing sort—and left him defenseless. Which didn't prevent him from lunging at me with an outstretch fist, trying to knock me unconscious. I sidestepped, and let Hotwings handle the situation.

_Crunch!_ Hotwings gave Matt a solid kick to the jaw. Matt staggered back, still upright but clearly hurting.

I gave him my sternest face. "Where's the sub? I'm taking it back."

"Too late," he smirked, blood dripping from his cut lip. "It's already gone. You've been wasting your time here." He spat red onto the steel floor.

I felt my breath stutter. "What?"

"All of this was just a distraction. You'll never find the sub now—it's deep in the oceans to the east of Hoenn. And soon… very soon… the sea will rise to cover this island!" He laughed, and before I could ask more, turned and dove into the pool. I ran to the railing, looking for him in the water, but he'd disappeared beneath the wavering surface.

_Damn! _I thought. _All of this for a dead end._ Haha! Remembering that makes me laugh, because that could just as easily sum up most of my journey toward becoming the Champion.

I left the facility and hit the hostel. It was evening now—I'd call Stern in the morning to give him the bad news. Not that it was really my problem, of course, but I think I've already demonstrated my terrible habit of getting involved in matters that don't really concern me.

I dreamt of rolling waves that night. The sea hugged me closely, drawing me in with its salty breath, and we kissed again and again, deeply, passionately, and I realized the sea had Brendan's face at some moments, Axel's at others. I started awake around 3 am, so turned on that I had to silently take care of myself despite the presence of other sleeping trainers in the hostel dormitory. Sometimes a girl's gotta do what she's gotta do, y'know?

Anyway, again, this is not really a story about that stuff—"coming of age as a young woman" or whatever. It's a story about how I became _the greatest goddamn League Champion _Hoenn has ever known, and the next morning, I realized I'd gotten sidetracked from that goal. Stupid Team Aqua could just do their own thing for a while. I had bigger fish to fry.

* * *

We surfed east, out into the open seas. It brought me unexpectedly good feelings to watch the big island of Hoenn begin to shrink behind me. Hoenn—the region—is named for its largest landmass, but there are numerous outer islands as well. The last two Gym Badges I needed would be found out here, and the Hoenn League also made their base on one of these smaller isles.

It occurred to me as I rode on Ms. Splish that this was the first time I'd **surf**ed over deep ocean. My prior trips were on rivers and lakes, and Mr. Briney had carried me across Hoenn's southern sea. I peered into the water. It was dark. I felt a little nervous.

Of course, now that we were on a new trail—namely, Route 124—it was time to catch something. I hoped it wouldn't be what I thought it would be, but of course D3X confirmed my fears. "TENTACOOL 60%, WINGULL 35%, PELIPPER 5%," she told me. Probably a Tentacool in my future, then. At least I could get it out of the way now, so that later when I inevitably found one again, I didn't have to catch it.

Sure enough, a blue, amorphous jellyfish appeared in the water, its gelatinous red eyes peering up at me maliciously. Drat! It was a small one. It would take a lot of training to get this one up to my team's current strength. To the PC with you then, Johnny the Tentacool.

I traveled onward for many hours, battling a few trainers here and there. Surprisingly, I met no one else who rode a Pokémon. All of them were in swim gear and just treaded water while we battled. It was… weird. How long had they been out here? How did they plan to get back to town? Maybe they just weren't riding their Pokémon _at the moment_, and they'd take them out to return home later. Or Hoenn was secretly ruled by a race of humanoid fish-people.

Tired from a long day of riding my Gyarados, I was very glad to see the lights of Mossdeep City appear in the distance. Mossdeep is the third-largest settlement on the eastern seas, or so my map told me. When I arrived, I dismounted on a beautiful sandy shore and made my way up a long series of winding stone steps. The city was nestled atop the highest hill of the island. The grass, pungent and crisp, rustled in the evening breeze, and shimmered purple in the sunset light. My eyes instinctively scanned the facades of the buildings, looking for the… there. Hostel.

I checked in and blacked out.

The next morning, I spent a few minutes exploring Mossdeep. The people here were… a bit off. They smiled a lot less than other Hoenn residents, I noticed, but they didn't seem unfriendly. More like they weren't used to outsiders. Which made sense, considering their remote location.

I wandered past the Gym, sneaking a peek at the sign. _Tate and Liza: Psychic trainers._ That's all it said. Wait… two leaders? That was unusual. I wondered if it were regulation. Maybe these Mossdeep folk just did things differently.

Moving on, I came upon a young man hiding behind some hedges near a stately manor home. "Hey… you!" he hissed, beckoning me frantically.

"Huh?" I wandered closer.

"C'mere. Look at this." He handed me a beautiful stone. It shimmered with a rainbow of dull pastel colors. "This is a King's Rock. I found it, but… I don't want it. You want it?"

I shrugged. "I guess. What's it do?"

"Certain Pokémon can evolve when they carry it in a trade," he explained. "Steven really wants it, but I don't want him to have it. But if I keep it, he'll get it eventually."

I smiled gleefully. "A chance to stick it to Steven? Count me in." I pocketed the stone and kept walking as the boy took off running in the other direction. Feeling curious, I approached the mansion he'd been hiding near. And who should be standing on the doorstep but Steven Stone himself? Figures.

"Lidya!" he called. "Oh, hello! I didn't expect to see you here."

"Steven," I replied, nodding. "This your house?"

"It is," he said modestly. "Not much of a place, I'll admit, but it's home."

I took a long breath. "Uh huh. Well, I was just looking around the neighborhood, so I'd better be on my way…"

"Hang on Lidya. I want to give you something." He went inside the house, motioning for me to come with him. I followed, and was awestruck. The inside was more lavish than anything I'd ever seen—a magnificent chandelier hung above us, suspended in space without ropes or wires. The room, lined at the doorway with marble and oak, opened ahead into a wide double staircase leading to upper landings, every step coated in plush blue carpet. To my left and right were rows of doors, undoubtedly leading to studies, dining rooms, and other decadent chambers.

"Wow," I exhaled.

"Just be a moment. Wait here." Steven hustled upstairs, and was gone perhaps thirty seconds. He returned with an HM disc. "This is **dive**. Since you probably can't afford one of your own, I figured you should have mine. I really don't need it now." He smiled good-naturedly.

I wanted to punch him, but bit my lip instead and took the disc. "Thank… you," I grunted.

Oblivious, Steven said, "You'll need the Gym Badge from Mossdeep to use **dive**, but I'm sure you'll pick that up in due time!"

"Sure thing Steven. Be seeing you." I made my way down the gravel pathway back to the main road, fuming. Who did he think he was? Bringing me into his mansion, gloating about how he had didn't even need this expensive HM since he could just buy another? Ugh.

To cool down, I decided to pay one more tourist visit, this one to the Space Center. It was one of the most popular attractions in Hoenn, and as such had a line for entry. I waited patiently and was admitted. The Center housed a collection of exhibits of rocks from space, as well as satellites and related machines. Pretty interesting, but nothing to write home about. They also said they'd be launching a shuttle within the next few months, but I planned to be long gone by then, so I didn't much care.

I spent some time that evening walking the beach on the south side of the city. The sea was so beautiful and calm that night… I tried to forget everything that'd happened and just let myself relax. I shut my eyes and just walked, letting the sound of the waves guide my feet. Which then tripped on something in the sand, sending me sprawling.

It was a high-end fishing pole. The beach was empty as far as I could see, so despite being a little annoyed for having stumbled over it, I felt pleased with this lucky find. I took the newer pole and left my own older one, which I'd acquired all those months ago back in Dewford.

The next day I tried my hand at fishing. The rod was spectacular: no sooner had I cast than I began to feel fierce tugs. I drew in the line as best I could, nearly losing control a few times, until at last a black and blue horror with a mouth the size of my torso burst from the sea. A Sharpedo! I weakened and captured her. Naming her Rayne, I immediately realized how she'd prove useful: Tate and Liza were psychic type trainers, and Rayne was a dark type—immune to psychics. Furthermore, I knew from asking around that the twins—for they were twin Gym Leaders, it seemed—used rock/psychic types in battle. Rayne's water typing would counter that as well. Perfect.

Returning to the computer, I swapped Ms. Splish for Hotwings… but then reconsidered. Hotwings was doubly weak to my enemies: rock trumped fire, and psychic annihilated fighting. Better to play it safe.

"Sorry buddy. It's just for now, okay?" I said, as I put Hotwings in the PC for the first time ever. I felt a pang of guilt, but it went away. How bad could digital stasis be?

Next, I returned to Route 124, which ran west of the city. There were a number of trainers here that I'd skipped on my way to Mossdeep, and I couldn't spare the experience for my Pokémon. I spent a day fighting there, and the following day I ventured to Route 125, where I caught rotund little whale Pokémon that I named Betty.

Returning to town, I entered the Gym. It was a madhouse! The floors were covered in strange arrow-shaped panels that slid you in whichever direction they were pointing, and the gym trainers were all either meditating or doing tricks with Pokéballs.

My hunch about Rayne was right—her dark type attack **bite** brought down foe after foe. It was almost too easy to get to the Gym Leaders.

But before I approached them, I paused. I had the type advantage… but did I have the strength? From what I'd heard, these two were much tougher than their lackeys I'd stepped over to get here.

I couldn't take that risk. We needed more time. I turned tail and fled the Gym, vowing to return when I _knew_ we were ready. And we would be, very soon. I knew exactly what needed to happen for us to gain the strength to overcome this challenge.

I knew because I'd done it before.

I'd once been a Queen of the Sands. Now I would become a Mistress of the Seas.


	17. The Sea

**Chapter 17: The Sea**

The sea became my everything.

In the morning I would rise and pack my gear, smear sunscreen on my increasingly-tanned face, neck, and arms, gobble down breakfast, and prep a lunch. Then I was out on the open ocean, riding atop my Gyarados as naturally as if I were surfing the seas on my own two feet. I'd use the super rod I'd found to fish up Wailmer, Sharpedo, and Tentacool… and then knock them out with Polaris or Juliet. And repeat. Slowly but surely, my Pokémon all grew in experience and strength as I carefully swapped them through battle after battle.

Whenever we encountered a trainer, I'd cycle through my weakest Pokémon, and always end the battle with Polaris. His electricity was unstoppable out in the deeps. And though we downed many wild foes, none of them were different from what I'd already seen. So I caught nothing. There were no evolutions, either—all of my Pokémon were as big as they were going to get. Ms. Splish did learn **hydro pump**, which was nice. But that was about it.

I came to know every rock and shoal on all the Routes 127 to 131 south and southwest of Mossdeep. Some areas had undersea ridges that I could barely make out through the shimmering water. Others churned with fierce current nonstop, rendering travel impossible in all but one direction. In places there were hidden breakers, peaceful coves, and caches of wildlife. I knew every one of them, in time.

And time passed, as always. The first day was the longest. The second was longer. I began to regain my former, waste-wanderer appearance: dirty blonde hair, darker skin licked daily by salt and spray, a more slim, muscular figure. I liked the way I looked, especially as I underwent further growth and development in, ah, certain areas. Make no mistake: I was attractive, and I knew it. I started getting looks from the boys at the hostel, followed by offers of dates. I turned them all down. My heart beat only for the sea.

And maybe Brendan Birch. A little.

Two weeks became a month before I realized it, and yet another two weeks flew by before I finally recognized how long I'd been at my relentless training. During all that time, I only deviated from my work once: to visit Pacifidlog Town.

It was a curious little place. The whole town was afloat, anchored in just a few places to outcroppings of rock. The citizens traveled between their homes and businesses on floating planks set up like sidewalks all around the town. Everyone owned a boat or a **surf**ing Pokémon.

I didn't spend much time in Pacifidlog, as it had no Gym, and I spoke with only a few people while there since most of the town's population was out performing their principal occupation: fishing. "You look hardened," one of the older men I met said. "Like you've been through a lot. How old are you?"

"Barely fourteen," I replied.

He appeared a bit startled. "So young! And yet your eyes betray a deep sense of loss." The man muttered a prayer to the local sea deity on my behalf, and wished me well on my way. I hoped his good vibes might carry me through the challenge that lay ahead: Tate and Liza.

* * *

"Hahaha… were you surprised that there are two Gym Leaders?" the twins asked in creepy unison. They were a boy and a girl, both just a bit older than me, with black hair and blue bodysuits. "We're twins!" they both said.

"We don't need to talk because…" Tate began.

"We can determine…" Liza continued.

"What the other is thinking…" Tate said.

"All in our minds!" Liza said.

"This combination of ours…" Tate added.

"Can you beat it?" Liza finished.

"Whatever. Double battles are stupid," I muttered.

They threw their Pokéballs, and their only two Pokémon emerged: a pair of floating stones, one shaped like the sun, the other a crescent moon. Both had deep-set glowing eyes, and both emitted an eerie hum, punctuated by occasional screeches. I knew them to be Solrock and Lunatone, respectively.

_I damn well hope I can beat this combo,_ I thought. "Go, Ms. Splish! Juliet!" The sea dragon and the flowering figure entered the battlefield. "Splish, use **hydro pump **on Solrock!" Ms. Splish reared back, readying a huge plume of water. I saw Lunatone beginning to focus its psychic energy at Juliet. "Juliet, come back!"

Juliet was a ruse—I knew she'd draw Lunatone's fire, as she was poison type, which had a deadly weakness to psychic. But I wasn't going to put her in any real danger. My own intent had been to distract one foe long enough for… yes! Ms. Splish fired a powerful blast of water, knocking Solrock clear across the room… and out cold.

Just Lunatone left. I unleashed my secret weapon, Rayne, who was ready to **crunch** the foe. Lunatone let fly the psychic blast it'd been charging, but to no avail: Rayne was immune. A **hydro pump** and **crunch** combo brought down the opponent in two hits. Flawless victory! Not a scratch on either of my Pokémon.

"What!" Tate gasped.

"Our combination…" Liza began.

"Was shattered!" Tate finished.

"It can't be helped. You've won. So take these!" they said together. One handed me a shining metal badge—the Mind Badge—and the other offered me the Calm Mind TM. I took both, gave them a curt nod, and left.

It had been so easy. I wondered why my previous Gym Leader battles were so much harder than this one. Winona and now Tate and Liza, beaten handily. Was I getting stronger? Or was I just lucky?

Didn't matter. I had one Gym Badge left to collect, and then… the League.

* * *

I swapped Hotwings back into my team, leaving Meg/Mog/Mo in the PC. I could pick them back up whenever I needed to fly. My current crew consisted of Hotwings, Polaris, Ms. Splish, Rayne, Juliet, and Ruby. All were battle-hardened and ready for whatever the world could throw at us.

Or so I thought.

With the Mind Badge in hand, I was able to visit one of the last unknowns in Mossdeep (I'd spent a month and a half there—I knew the city pretty well): the Dive Shop.

"Hallo," the divemaster said, smiling a bit. "I'm Rolf. What can I do for you?" Such a curious accent—I had no idea where the tall, stocky, blond man might be from.

"I've got the necessary items to learn how to **dive**," I explained.

"Ah! Sure, sure. Let's just get you in some gear?" He fitted me for a dive vest and helped me teach Rayne how to **dive**, using the HM. "So, we just need to get you comfortable with diving."

'How does it… work, exactly?" I asked.

"Simple enough. Yer Pokémon will create a bubble around you, and inside this bubble you will be safe from the waves and water. You can dive as deep as your Pokémon allows."

"Why would I want to do that?"

Rolf thought a moment. "Undersea life is very beautiful. And you will be able to catch certain species of Pokémon that you can't find elsewhere. Also, the entrance to Sootopolis City is underwater."

"What? Why? That's so inconvenient!"

Rolf shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I'm not from here. Things are pretty strange on this island."

Well, whatever. Par for the course with Hoenn. I followed Rolf out to a roped-off section of shoreline and climbed astride Rayne. Her skin was rough and firm. I clung to her large fin, worried. Rolf entered the water as well, riding on a Pokémon I'd never seen before: it was wide and elegant, with wing-like fins. A Mantine, he called it. I wanted one.

"We're going to take it real slow," Rolf said calmly. "All you need is to give the order to **dive**, and your Sharpedo will take care of the rest." He ordered his Pokémon to **dive**, and gracefully disappeared beneath the water.

I stared into the dark blue below me, breathing unsteadily. I'd spent a month and a half out here over this water—I'd even fallen in a few times—and yet I felt a gripping fear. But I swallowed my nervousness and gave the order, albeit in a whisper: "Rayne, **dive**."

Rayne seemed to… how can I explain this?… _shiver_, and suddenly there was a wide bubble around me, and down we went as she pulled me into the sea. I could look out into the ocean in every direction with crystal clarity, and I let out a little scream as I saw how _big_ it was. I could see for what felt like miles all around me—ahead, beside, and even below, as the land sloped gently downward and away into the basin I knew lay beneath the islands. The depths of the seas around Hoenn were pretty shallow compared to the open water further out, but for a human they were still nothing to scoff at. I spotted Rolf nearby and guided Rayne with my legs and arms, as I did when surfing on Gyarados. She obeyed.

"It's amazing!" I called, but Rolf pointed toward his ear, then held up arms crossed in an X. He reached out his hand toward me, stretching the side of the bubble that surrounded his Mantine. I winced when the wall of his bubble reached mine, but instead of bursting, the two bubbles connected at that point forming a small tunnel.

"What do you think?" he said cheerfully, grinning ear to ear. "The only way we can talk is by linking bubbles. Our voices get lost in the water." He gestured broadly around. "This is why we dive, Lidya: the sea is an uncharted horizon, a frontier that we humans have only barely begun to explore."

I spied now a huge variety of things moving and drifting in the water beyond: beds of kelp and seaweed shifting in the currents; a small group of Tentacool floating along; a pair of Wailmer very far off, just massive shapes in the distance; and flickers of other Pokémon I'd never seen, darting amongst the sea grasses.

"It's wonderful," I sighed, and Rolf gave me another grin.

"Let's go back to the surface. I think you're ready." We returned to the world above, and I paid Rolf for the lesson and wet suit vest. Eager to get started, I wasted no time in checking out of the hostel and packing up my gear. I'd become quite adept at compressing all my things into as little space as possible, but even so, I decided to have Ms. Splish **dive** alongside me, so she could carry all my stuff while I rode on Rayne.

We set out at midday, after a final lunch on Mossdeep. I never did learn why they called it Mossdeep—very little moss there. Whatever.

I made camp that night on a rocky atoll somewhere south of Mossdeep—it didn't really matter where, as I knew how to get back to town from any point on the sea. The next day I **surf**ed toward the towering parasitic volcanic cone where I knew Sootopolis City lay nestled. Who builds their city _inside_ a volcano? I guess the same people who build their city _on_ a volcano. Hoenn: weird.

The entrance was actually pretty easy to find, now that I could **dive**. I reached the sheer cliff side of the cone and dove under, marveling at the white rock of the volcano. There was a wide cave mouth beneath the water. But before I entered, I did a little exploring in the tall sea grasses. The transition point between two Routes was nearby, so I took advantage of the opportunity and added a pair of Pokémon to my team. First was a silvery-blue clam with a tiny face inside—a Clampearl that I named Sammy. Second was a strange blue fish with two yellow danglers in front of its face—a Chinchou I called Zippy. While I didn't plan to use either of them right away, I still wanted to have as many options as possible.

I dove into the Sootopolis cave, navigated a short tunnel, and rose to the surface inside the crater. It was… beautiful. The city lay scattered amongst the rocky cliffs along the inside wall of the crafter, each house and building made of the same opalescent white stone as the crater itself. My favorite aspect was the view above: the sky was framed in a circle of white rock, surrounded on all sides by the edges of the cone. _Now_ I knew why people built their homes inside a volcano.

I cruised atop a pristine, silent lake, the water partly fresh and partly salty. I spied the Gym immediately: it was on its own tiny island near the north side of the lake. The PC was on the east side, and I made my way there to heal up and check in at the hostel.

Returning to the Gym, I found the doors locked. There was a handwritten sign that said _Gym temporarily closed: Leader away on pressing business. _Phooey.

I spent the rest of the day exploring Sootopolis. In particular, there was a beautiful cathedral on one of the cliffs, with stained glass shimmering in the reflected light of the crater lake. I made my way up the steep stairs and entered. It was silent—my shoes clattered on the stone floor as I found a seat in a pew. I settled in and spent a while meditating on the state of my life amidst the colorful glow and smell of incense.

What had I learned in the last nine months? That was how long it'd been since I left home with just a Torchic and big dreams. It seemed kind of silly now, the life I'd been leading before. I'd spent my days reading books and dreaming about the people in them. But they were just stories, I'd reasoned. Just stories about a world I'd never see firsthand. I felt then that I had been a fool. Naïve. I'd concerned myself with little craft projects, stories of make-believe, and keeping my life in a tidy little box, where everything was safe and under my control. I hadn't had to worry about anything _real_—how to keep myself sheltered, fed, and safe; how to win battles; how to train a team; how to deal with death. I hadn't—

"What brings you here today, child?" an elderly nun asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"I dunno. Just wandered in," I murmured.

"Do you have any questions?"

I paused. "Actually, yeah. What is this place?"

"This is a cathedral built to honor the great deities of Hoenn lore, to whom we pray as minor gods alongside our one Lord."

"Great deities?"

"Kyogre, Groudon, and Rayquaza." She drew a spiral on her chest as she said this, ending over her heart.

_That name again… _"Okay, another question for you. Where do the souls of Pokémon go when they die?"

The nun smiled benevolently. "Most move on, to another realm. We'd like to think it's a paradise for them, but truthfully, we don't know for sure. The scriptures only say that they move to a realm of beauty and wonder, different and yet similar to where we humans go once we pass on."

"Then where do ghost types come from?"

She nodded. "Ah, yes. Well, we believe them to be the spirits of departed Pokémon, trapped here."

I looked up in surprise. "What?"

"If a Pokémon's soul does not successfully leave this world, we have to conclude that it remains behind. Where else could ghost types come from?" She offered me a long white candle. "If you've a Pokémon you wish to say a prayer for, you can light this candle at the altar over there," she pointed to an alcove, "and place it on the rack. Our prayers can help ghost types escape this plane."

"What if I have, uh… eight to pray for?"

Another kind smile. "One candle does the job."

I took the candle to the alcove. There was a tall golden candleholder here, designed to fit dozens of candles at once. I studied the portrait on the wall above the holder, its image flickering in the firelight. It was of a pink Pokémon with a long, thin tail and brilliant blue eyes. I'd never seen one like that. Couldn't think of its name, although it seemed oddly familiar. I lit the candle and set it in its place, silently recalling my fallen friends: Suzie, Noguri, Crystal, Tina, Brad, Breaker, Count, and Serenity. Were their souls at rest now? I hoped so, with every ounce of passion I could muster.

* * *

The next day I did some aquatic exploring. I wore the wetsuit top I'd purchased from Rolf as I cruised the waves. It was December, although since Hoenn is equatorial, it didn't much matter. The sun was high and hot, but I didn't have to deal with that: I spent my time under the waves, cruising the sandy bottom of the sea on Rayne's sandpapery back. I used my new ability to scout out parts of the routes I'd missed during my prior training. And of course it figures that, on Route 128, I came upon something that would change my life forever in very short order.

I found Captain Stern's stolen submarine.

It was heading toward an undersea cavern. I kept myself hidden in a kelp bed, urging Rayne to stay still even as I fidgeted. I'd sworn to return that sub, and even though it'd been over a month since it was taken, I still felt a sense of obligation. Or was it my stupid empathy again?

"Let's go," I whispered to Rayne. We followed the sub into the cave and stayed below it until it surfaced. Popping up, I silently recalled Rayne and tailed the Team Aqua thugs as they navigated the stony halls. This cave didn't seem particularly special, but I knew it had to be hiding something: Archie was at the head of the line.

I overhead snippets of their conversations. It seemed they'd been searching for "it" for weeks now, to no avail. What were they hunting? It must have something to do with that orb they'd taken from Mt. Pyre. But why hadn't they found it yet? What _was_ it?

I was about to find out.

"Oh my god," Archie gasped suddenly. "This is it." He'd stopped before what appeared to be a wall. But when they held up a lantern, it became clear that it wasn't: there was a door there, sealed shut and covered in runic carvings. In the center sat a large, circular slot. I didn't have to think hard to guess what fit in there. "I'm going to open it," Archie said, carefully inserting the red orb.

The orb glowed, whined, shook, fell out of the slot into Archie's hands. The door opened.

"You lot stay here. I'm going in," Archie ordered.

"You sure boss?" one grunt asked.

"Don't argue with me! This is what we've been waiting for. I won't let you idiots mess it up." Without another word, he walked through the door. It rumbled shut behind him, leaving his entourage of five standing around idly.

"Surprise!" I shouted, jumping out from my hiding place and releasing Hotwings. The fire bird menaced the goons with its talons. All of them cowered, and I realized they might remember the beatings it had administered earlier, back in Lilycove. Good.

"Not so fast, Pine," a familiar voice said. My eyes widened as Admin Shelly stepped out from the crowd. How had I missed her before? "You're pretty clever to get down here without a submarine." She flipped her red curls out of her eyes and drew a Pokéball. "But it won't do to have you meddling. Not when we're so close to reaching our goal. And I _certainly_ want payback for what you did at the Weather Institute."

I grinned. "You'll fight me, then?"

"I'm going to give you a taste of pain. Resign yourself to it!" she snarled. Her first Pokémon was a Sharpedo. I defeated it with Polaris. Her second was a Mightyena. Hotwings had no trouble.

"Beaten again?" she wailed. "Ugh, fine." She stepped aside, eyeing Hotwings uneasily—I'd kept him out as insurance, but I figured with their leader bested the rest of the grunts would keep their distance.

"No more battles, then? Fine by me. Excuse me." I sauntered past the terrified thugs, placed the blue orb in the door, and waited. The same procedure occurred, and I entered the chamber. The door shut heavily behind me.

There was a long series of winding steps here, which I could see by the glow of the fire coming from Hotwings. I followed the only other sound I could hear: a high-pitched humming. After a time, Hotwings' light was joined by another source, this one a faint red glow that got brighter as I went further down the steps.

I found Archie at the bottom. He was standing before a large, dark pool, gazing in wonder as the red orb in his hands glowed with an unearthly light. He heard my approach and said with quiet malice, "Isn't it beautiful? The sleeping form of the ancient Pokémon Kyogre?"

"Kyogre?" I said. "What is Kyogre?"

Archie turned to face me, and the orb glowed a little less brightly. "It is a Pokémon aeons older than this island. Legends say that Kyogre and Groudon, two forces of natural destruction, began a terrible battle one day in the seas beyond what we now call Johto… atop a tiny rock above this very spot." His voice rose in volume as he told the tale, his excitement growing. "Kyogre, a god of the seas, brought rain and wind! Groudon, beast of the earth, brought sandstorms and volcanic eruptions! The result of their violence was Hoenn itself, and their battle only ended because Rayquaza, the balancing force of the wind, stopped their fight."

"Uh huh," I grunted. "Well, thanks for the history lesson, but yeah, whatever you're doing there… stop it." I tilted my head toward Hotwings. "Or I'll _make_ you stop."

Archie only laughed uproariously, unnerving me. "Try me!" He drew a Pokéball with lighting fast precision and tossed it toward me. Out popped a familiar black hound—Mightyena. Hotwings dealt with it. Next was a Sharpedo, which Polaris fried. Finally, Archie unleashed a Crobat. I winced, remembering Count. Poor, innocent Count… but this was not the time for distraction. I had Polaris shock the four-winged bat from the sky.

"It doesn't matter!" Archie jeered. "You're too late anyway! Behold!" And with that, he lofted the red orb high into the air. A dazzling beam of red light shot forth, into the water. I saw nothing at first, but then… a black shape. Something moving. The water began to churn and froth like a geyser, and two gleaming red eyes opened, staring deep into my heart, just like they had in the dreams. I gasped, stumbled back, horrified. A creature the size of a sailboat erupted from the waters, sending a wave cascading over Archie and myself. Archie nearly dropped the red orb, but held on.

"Kyogre!" he shrieked. "I am your master now! I possess the orb that once bound you! Kyogre: heed my command! _Raise the seas!_"

There was a terrible splash, and Kyogre was gone, down into the waters below. I heard and felt a rumble like thunder that shook the whole cave. A few moments later, a radio at Archie's belt crackled to life. He snapped it up and listened.

"Mmhm… it's raining? Good. You saw Kyogre? Excellent! Oh… what? It's… it's raining harder than we expected? No! Hold on, I'll be there shortly." Archie ignored me as he pushed past, clambering up the stairs. I followed quickly. We traveled back to the entrance of the cave—it seemed that the Aqua gang no longer cared that I was there—and they took the sub while I used **dive** to swim out on Rayne. Surfacing on Route 128, I was met with a startling scene.

The seas churned as wind whipped them. Inky gray clouds cluttered the sky, so thick and dense that it seemed like dusk. Rain fell in sheets, drenching me in seconds. The sub surfaced near me, and I saw Archie climb out of the hatch. "Yes! It's working!" he shouted into the storm. The storm howled back. "Now, Kyogre, come to me!" He held up the red orb, and… nothing. Archie tried again, and again.

"You fool!" a voice called. I spun my head. It was Maxie and some Team Magma goons, riding atop a large motorboat. They pulled up alongside the sub. "The red orb can only _awaken_ Kyogre. It does not control the beast!"

"No, it… it can't be!" Archie thundered. But as he looked around, I could see his face sag with the realization that his arch-nemesis was right. Whatever Team Aqua had wanted Kyogre to do, this was not it. "Kyogre was supposed to cause a bit of rain—not a typhoon like this one!" He put one hand against his chest. "Can it be? Have… have I made a horrible mistake? I only wanted…"

"Archie, shut up!" Maxie hollered, leaping from his craft onto the top of the sub. "Whatever you thought you were doing, it didn't work. Now get your ass on the boat and come help me stop Kyogre!" I could only watch in stunned silence. What kind of soap opera drama _was _this nonsense?

As Archie clambered over to the boat, Maxie glanced my way, finally noticing me. Without emotion he said, "Hey, you're that kid from Mt. Chimney. Lidya, right? Listen, you're tough, but if you know what's good for you, you'll scram. This is out of your hands now. I'll take the sub back to Captain Stern."

"What? Hey, I'm pretty strong. Let me help."

He shook his head. "This isn't your problem."

Well, that settled it. "Fine," I said cheekily. "You don't want my help? You won't get it." I didn't even wait for a reply before surfing away. The storm was localized—I soon left its area of effect, awestruck at how suddenly the sky changed from gray to blue. Behind me the clouds spun and rippled, but on the seas north of the storm, the sun shone with all its usual brilliance.

Whatever. Didn't matter. Today was December 22nd. Renewal Festival was in ten days. Cruising alone on the waves and snubbed by Maxie, I was feeling a bit lonely and rejected, so I'd decided to go home for a week or so. If the Gym Leader at Sootopolis was out of town, I couldn't make much progress anyway.

I reached Sootopolis, extracted Meg/Mog/Mo from the PC, and flew home. My mother welcomed me back with open arms, saying how glad she was to see me safe and sound. And just out of the corner of my eye, I saw the curtains in Brendan's room move back.

He'd been waiting.


	18. The Flood

**Chapter 18: The Flood**

Brendan and I slept together for the first time the following day.

I think I can leave out the nitty-gritty details, don't you? Or would your audience enjoy being titillated by a tale of teenage lust? Too bad. There'll be more sex later, I promise, but for now I will say only this: it was awkward and magical and beautiful and breathless and quiet and ridiculous and I was basically overjoyed by the whole experience, mostly, kind of, sort of.

It happened like this: I spent the first evening in Littleroot with my mom. The second day I went over to visit Brendan. I realized the moment I walked in that I'd missed him a lot. It was strange, though, to feel that way, because I almost never thought about him when I was training or on the road. But he 'd been there all along, at the back of my thoughts. Stepping into his room suddenly brought back memories of the kissing we'd done there a month prior, and I got all worked up immediately the moment I sat on his bed.

He asked how I'd been and what I'd been up to, and I asked the same. We attempted small talk for a while because that's what you do, right? You don't greet each other and immediately start ripping clothes off—there has to be some ceremony, some pretense of civility. That didn't last too long though, I'll admit. Brendan had been preparing for this possibility, and thus had a package of condoms in his nightstand drawer that he'd secreted in from the neighborhood drugstore. We tried not to make much noise since his mom was home. I… I'm not sure what else to tell you. Roxanne's advice was very helpful, I guess? The experience was how you'd expect a first time to be: we were both uncomfortable but extremely horny, and things probably didn't go as well as they might with more practice.

Which we got, admittedly, over the next several days. In addition to training my Pokémon, my boyfriend (I started calling him that right away) and I had sex perhaps four more times. It got better each time, gotta say. And that's all you're gonna hear about it, all right? Sheesh. Pervert.

…did I love him? That's a good question. I think so. Aside from the physical relationship, we talked _a lot_. I poured out some of my worries to him—thoughts about my father, the truth about my family problems, the fact that eight of my Pokémon had died in battle. He understood, said he felt sorry for me, said it must be so hard to deal with. Was it love? I suppose that's what I would call it. I didn't think of it as such at the time, but that's what it must've been. Wanting him to be happy no matter what? Being willing to sacrifice things for him, trusting him, feeling like I wanted to spend my time with him because of who he is… sounds like love. I felt deeply attached to him.

Which is why it really sucked when he died.

* * *

About three days into my stay in Littleroot, it began to rain. Nothing unusual about that, you might think. It was heavy, and constant, and the skies swirled with murky gray clouds at all hours. There were no sunbreaks, no moments of relief, but nothing particularly strange happened. The yard got a bit soggy and my rain boots saw a lot of use, but otherwise it was no big deal. Just a little bad weather.

Except it didn't stop. For four straight days it rained buckets. Mom sometimes watched the news, and we began to hear reports of flooding in other parts of Hoenn. Flooding on an island like this one was rare—even during tropical storms, we still didn't see much of it thanks to the networks of river valleys that kept the water diverted away from settlements. But this ever-present rainstorm was causing rising water in many cities across the island. We watched with growing trepidation as the reports details distant towns first, then nearby locations like Petalburg and Rustboro. Oldale began to flood a week into my stay.

I was so stupid though. Stupid and stubborn. I _knew_ why this was happening. Meteorologists couldn't explain it. The Weather Institute had no idea. But _I_ knew: it was Kyogre. The monster unleashed by Team Aqua had obviously not been captured yet. How could it be? The red orb didn't control it, and I was in possession of the blue orb. I scoffed at the whole situation, too proud to act. This wasn't my problem. Maxie had said so. I wasn't going to fix it.

I left the blue orb on my dresser and glared at it every morning, willing it to disappear. Like an obstinate child, I refused to accept the possibility that I had some responsibility for the storm. Whether I wanted it or not was irrelevant: the old man on Mt. Pyre had entrusted the orb to me, and I let it sit there, useless, while cities around Hoenn began to sink into the sea.

I… I wish I could g-go back and… f-fix things. I… I'd, uh… I'd undo it all. Sheesh, sorry. Got a little choked up.

The last day I got to spend with Mom and Brendan was December 31st—the Renewal Festival. Normally most of the citizens of Littleroot had a nice party in the community center, counting down the hours until midnight. That year was no exception. There was punch and cookies, dancing and singing, and of course the twelve candles ceremony. Sorry—that's a local custom to Hoenn, so maybe some of your viewers don't know it. Twelve candles are lit on a circular stand, and each hour from one o'clock onward a candle is blown out. Those who are in attendance reminisce about the month corresponding to the number of candles that are dark. Eventually eleven candles have been snuffed, and the final one is blown out at midnight—followed immediately by a relighting of all twelve candles, indicating a fresh new year.

Mom and I talked and relaxed with Mrs. Birch, Brendan, and Professor Birch. By now it was no secret that Brendan and I were together, so we held hands. I'm not sure if our parents knew we'd had sex, but they'd seen us kiss. Eh, they probably knew. We thought we were sneaky, but I'm sure one of us made a telling noise at some point during a romp that one of our mothers heard.

"What do you remember about October?" Mom asked me after the tenth candle was blown out. "What are you grateful for?"

"October… let's see." I did some mental calculations. "That was the month when I… ah, when I got this," I showed them the Crobat fang, "and this," revealing my scar, "so that was… fun." They chuckled. "I also got my seventh Gym badge that month. I'm glad for that." I shot Brendan a look—October was also the month when I'd kissed him on the way to Fortree.

The hours passed. Brendan and I danced and schemed and laughed together. Midnight arrived, and we all counted down the seconds. The youngest person in the community gets to blow out the last Renewal Candle—I recognized that kid I'd seen the second day on Hoenn, when Professor Birch was being chased by the Poochyena. After the party ended, our families separated to their respective houses, taking care to skip around the puddles on the sidewalks and lawns. Brendan and I snuck out shortly afterward, met in the community center parking lot, climbed in through a window we'd unlocked earlier, and had sex on the floor mats they use for exercise classes.

It was one of the best nights of my life.

* * *

I awoke the next day feeling great. Mom was making breakfast downstairs. There was no indication that anything unusual might occur. I knew Brendan's house would be quiet, as his dad had left early in the morning for a conference in Mauville. I was eager to get over there. After eating, I gathered my Pokémon and backpack of supplies from my bedroom. I was planning to pay another visit to Sootopolis today to see if the Gym Leader had returned, and I was going to take Brendan with me. It would've been a really great little trip.

When I stepped outside, pack on, I noticed something strange: it wasn't raining. The sky was inky gray, almost black, and the clouds were spinning and twirling like I'd never seen before. I studied them with curiosity before heading toward Brendan's house.

About halfway there, I heard a rumbling, rushing sound, like a wave about to break on the beach. I looked in the direction it was coming from—east—and saw a wall of water rising high above the town. It cast a shadow over me, blocking what little sun there was, and I screamed in terror.

"Oh fuck! Rayne! Rayne!" I yelped, releasing my Pokémon. "Get ready to **dive**!" I lunged onto her back and held on tight as the tsunami slammed down into the forest just outside Littleroot and began rushing inward, thundering like a train. My house was right in its path, but so was Brendan's behind me. There wasn't time to go to both. There wasn't even time to get to one before the water arrived.

_Oh my god_, I thought. _I have to choose_. Who would I try to save? My mom, or my boyfriend?

Seconds later, the wave hit me. Rayne was powerful—she swam forward against the raging water, a missile carrying me toward my home. But I was already too late: the bottom of the house, slammed by the current, shattered apart and was carried away. The upper floor floated toward me, and I pushed Rayne under it, barely dodging the massive debris. Then I spotted Mom.

She was underwater, eyes wide with panic, trying to swim in the tumultuous current. I swooped in, reached out a hand. She reached back. Our fingers connected. An uprooted tree slammed her, ripping her away from me and sending me spinning out of control in the opposite direction. Rayne brought us to a floating standstill facing downstream. And I watched, horror choking me, as the top of my house collided with Brendan's, smashing both into fragments. If he weren't already out of there…

But he was! I saw a Marshtomp glide past with Brendan on its back. He guided the creature clumsily, and after a second I realized why: his Pokémon didn't know **dive**. Brendan was holding his breath. I kicked Rayne forward and tried to catch up, all the while looking left and right for my mom. My mind was coursing with adrenaline—there was no time to grieve, no time to even be afraid. I was pure action.

Rayne and I twirled deftly around debris in the tsunami. Brendan wasn't far now. I watched him push his Pokémon to the surface, then plunge back under again. At last I reached him, and he saw me, somehow, through the water. I put out my hand. Our fingertips touched. I pulled him in.

"Brendan!" I screamed. He jumped off his Pokémon, entered the bubble, and joined me on Rayne's back. She was tough, but the added weight clearly slowed her down. "Brendan, oh my god! Oh my god!"

"Lidya!" Brendan cried. He was soaking wet, and soon so was I as we embraced and shared a kiss—our last, not that I knew it at the time.

"I have to find my mom!" I said urgently.

"Me too!"

"Dammit… you can't keep diving and holding your breath!"

"I have to!"

I brought us to the surface. There was a large piece of wood here—perhaps the side of a house. I let Brendan off onto it. He clung to the wreckage, getting wetter in the sudden rain that had whipped up while we were submerged. Marshtomp joined us moments later, having followed its trainer dutifully.

"Let me find my mom, then I'll find yours." I didn't wait for argument. Rayne and I sped into the deep. The water had slowed somewhat, but we were still pushing against it, so I steered Rayne downstream from where my house had been. There! I spotted my mother, floating in the water. Scooped her up. Kicked Rayne forward until we were rocketing upward.

Suddenly, a terrible ringing roar. It was… holy shit, it was Kyogre. It was Kyogre! The titanic blue and red monster rampaged along what used to be Main Street but was now the seafloor, smashing mailboxes and shrubs and whatever else it could find. It fired huge pulses of water from its mouth, distorting my vision each time with a shockwave.

I kept Rayne going until we broke the surface next to the planks. "Brendan, you've got to **surf** out! Kyogre is here!" I'd told him all about my encounter with the beast, not that he needed much introduction: Kyogre was a legendary figure in Hoenn mythology, which Brendan knew well, being a local.

"Kyogre?" Brendan stumbled. "But… my mom!"

"Brendan! Go!" I cried. That was the last thing I ever said to him.

He clambered atop his Marshtomp and said, "I'll be right back." His final words to me. Down he went.

I stood there, barely keeping my footing as waves shook me, my mother lying flat on the makeshift raft under my feet. In that moment of relative stillness, I finally noticed that I was bleeding. I'd been struck by debris a few times while zipping through the floodwater—my cheek, my arms, my legs, the top of my head. My gear was soaked but still intact. Mom. Mom!

I shook her, studying her face. She was ghostly pale. I pressed on her sternum a few times, then breathed into her mouth. Then I noticed her ribs, splintered inward into her chest. Probably from the tree that hit her earlier.

She was dead.

I can't say for sure why, but I accepted it for that moment. I knew the grief was lurking somewhere in my mind, but I pushed it down. There was at least one more person I could try to save. I left my mom's corpse on the raft and dove into the water on Rayne once again, heading for Brendan's house.

Once more, I was too late. Brendan was facing down the monster berserking below. His Marshtomp looked like a tiny tadpole against the whale that was Kyogre. Brendan drew three more Pokéballs from his bag and opened them, releasing Numel, Shroomish, and Swellow. Was he letting them out to fight?

No. He was letting them out to free them. I saw bubbles rise from their mouths as the three confused Pokémon swam toward the surface. Brendan, meanwhile, turned to face Kyogre. I rushed on. If I could just get close enough to-

Kyogre rumbled and fired a devastating pulse through the water. It knocked Brendan and Marshtomp out of sight, and sent me tumbling backward, off of Rayne's back. I nearly gasped at the freezing cold of the water all around me. Thrashing with my heavy bag, I began to sink. Rayne caught me and carried me toward the surface.

I took one final look downward at what remained of Littleroot. There wasn't much: most of the homes were mere foundations now; plants had been uprooted or shredded; drowned bodies of my neighbors were swirling with the currents, joined by clouds of debris. From nowhere, the Torchic doll I bought for my mom drifted past me. I grabbed it, clutched it tight. Something to cling to. I held onto it until—

* * *

The funeral occurred two days later, in Oldale, which is where I stayed until it happened. There were only three survivors of the Littleroot Tsunami, as it came to be called: myself, and a young married couple named Daisy and Red, who'd recently moved to town. Everyone else who'd been there that day died—drowned or killed by debris in the water. The funeral, therefore, was held en masse, allowing family and friends from other cities to come and grieve.

I carried the Torchic doll with me everywhere. It was the sole relic I'd managed to reclaim from my former home. Holding it helped me when I had to listen to them read my mother's name and add her body to the funeral pyre—a customary burial in Hoenn, especially for large groups of the dead. Squeezing the doll helped when they did the same for Brendan, and Jessica Birch, and that kid from the Renewal Festival, and that guy who used to wave hello to me each morning as he got his newspaper, and the seniors from the home near the community center, and on and on through name after name, almost sixty in all, every one of them dead, gone, lost forever.

My dad was there. I didn't see Taylor. Didn't want to talk to either of them. Dad had left us; if he'd been in town, maybe Mom would still be alive. Maybe I could've gone to rescue Brendan instead because Dad would've saved Mom. Maybe none of this would've even happened if he'd just taught me about Pokémon all those years ago. I huffed in anger whenever I saw him, both during the ceremony and at the funeral reception, and I refused to say more than a few words when he came over and gave me a hug.

But I mean, seriously, my mom and my boyfriend died the same day, and I was _there_. _I could've saved them if I'd only…_ was a line of thought I had many times that day, and the next, and every day since then. I felt sadness and plenty of it. But my mind was preoccupied with another emotion.

Revenge.

* * *

My dad told me my new home was his apartment in Petalburg. He said I was welcome any time, and that he loved me. I grudgingly parroted it back, but had no interest in going to his home right now, and said as much. Instead, I dried out my gear, gathered my wits, and took off atop Meg/Mog/Mo. It was still raining. The storm had not let up for weeks now.

I urged my Dodrio higher and higher, until we burst from the clouds into the sunlight above. The air was cold up here, but crisp and fresh. I wiped the glass of the Go-Goggles and studied the land below. One detail stood out to me starkly: the massive circular clouds orbiting the summit of the volcanic cone where Sootopolis lay. Could Kyogre be hiding there? Worth a look.

I flew onward, and landed inside the crater several hours later. The town was all boarded up, its citizens evacuated days before. All that remained open was the cathedral. Well, no luck here, but I could at least say a prayer before resuming my search.

The marble floor pattered with drops from my coat as I entered, tracking water all the way up to the altar at the front. The aged nun who'd met me before was there.

"Yes, child?" she said, looking at me with red, tired eyes. I noticed a row of sleeping bags, some of them occupied, along a back wall. So there were refugees staying here, then.

"Sister, I'm here on urgent business." I extracted the blue orb from my bag, hoping perhaps she'd have some clue. She'd said this was a place to worship Kyogre. "Do you know anything about this?"

The woman's eyes went wide. "That's… where did you get that?"

"It was given to me at Mt. Pyre. Do you know anything about Kyogre or this orb?"

Slowly she nodded. "I do. Come."

Hesitatingly, I followed her as she led me behind the altar, then through a series of doorway and stairwells. We were getting deeper under the church, somewhere in the side of the rocky cliffs. The air grew musty and stale, and I could sense the temperature dropping.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To a sacred place," she answered. A minute or so later, we arrived in front of a stone door. I'd seen one like it before.

"This is…" I started, but couldn't finish. I didn't know _what_ it was. Who'd built it? Why? When? All I knew was how to open it. Wordlessly I lifted the orb to the crevice and stepped back. The orb glowed, then fell to the floor with a gentle _clink_. The two halves of the door rumbled apart.

"You have been chosen," the nun whispered. "You know what to do now, don't you?"

"I think so? No, actually."

"Kyogre is enraged. You must settle its spirit. Only then can it return to its peaceful, dormant state."

I could hear the lapping of waves in the darkness beyond the stone door. "Alone?"

"Of course. You were selected by the keepers of that orb, and the gods as well. They believe you can do it, or they wouldn't have given you the orb to begin with." She patted me softly on the shoulder. "Go on."

Nervously, I started forward into the darkness. This room was much like the one where I'd first seen Kyogre: stone stairs spiraling away into blackness. I called out Hotwings and used his flames to light my way. The air here was wet and salty, and as I descended I could hear occasional rumbles and splashes.

At last I reached the bottom, where there was a pool of inky water. I held the orb up, breathing hard from fear and exertion. My skin prickled with goosebumps.

_Why have you called to me?_ a voice said in my mind. Two glowing red eyes appeared beneath the water's surface.

"I…" I began. "Um, who are you?"

_I am one of the Ancients. I shaped this land you now call home, human. It was I who first mapped the seas and bays of this island, I who called down the rain that became the rivers and lakes. I am older than the oldest stone on the shores of Hoenn._

"Okay… how are you talking to me?"

_You possess one of the two orbs. With it, you may speak to me._

I began to feel a bit more comfortable… and angry. Memories of what Kyogre had done suddenly flooded into my mind, and I yelled, "You have crimes to answer for, Kyogre!"

_What crimes are these? I am not aware of any wrongdoing._

"You murdered my mom and my boyfriend! You smashed my entire town!"

_Animals cannot commit murder, Lidya_. There was a mocking quality in that voice, almost like condescension or laughter._ Or if you think me a god, then who are you to judge me? _

"I don't care what you are. You'll pay for what you did."

_So be it_. The waters erupted with a geyser, and there floated Kyogre, right on the surface. I'd forgotten how big he was up close. The behemoth reared back, readying a strike. Gasping, I leapt sideways, just in time to dodge a jet of water. "Juliet!" I called, summoning my companion. She stood fast on the edge of the water, looking perfectly out-of-place against the backdrop of the huge creature beside her.

"**Leech seed**!" A barrage of spores landed on Kyogre, sprouting and draining its energy. "Return!" Before I could call her back, Juliet took a jet of water in the chest. It didn't kill her, thankfully, but it hurt. "Go, Polaris!"

_If you think to stop me with these insects, you're mistaken!_ Kyogre thundered in my mind.

"Polaris, use **thunder wave**!" Polaris summoned an electromagnetic field and sent it at the enemy. Kyogre twitched with paralysis.

_A minor inconvenience_. Kyogre retaliated with another burst of water, but Polaris was hardy.

"**Shock**!" Polaris fired electricity. The waters lit up all around Kyogre, and the monster writhed in pain. "Again!" Another burst. "Again!" And another.

Kyogre's voice was weaker as his thoughts came to me: _Enough! No more! I yield!_

"Again." Electricity crackled in the water. I saw only crimson. "Again." A fourth burst. "Again." A fifth.

_Please! I beg you!_ There was genuine agony in the words now.

I'm not sure what drove me to do it, but I felt a sudden pity for the creature. Had it been driven to this by the red orb? Did it even know what it had done? Or had it acted in a blind rage, unable to make sense of the world around it?

Something my father always said came to me at that moment: _There's a time and place for everything, Lidya_.

Now was the time and place for mercy, not slaughter. What would they say of me, the girl who killed a god? Is that what I wanted my legacy to be?

"Very well. By the power, uh, granted to me, the chosen one," I was totally making this up as I went, "I lay you to rest! Return to sleep, Kyogre!" I raised the blue orb over my head. A beam of light shot from it directly into the leviathan.

There was a piercing shriek, then a low hum. Kyogre's eyes shifted from red to blue.

_Thank you, Lidya. _The voice was calm. _You have freed me from the rage that the red orb brings. Now I grant you a gift as well. _I felt a cold sensation on my finger, and a ring made of silvery metal appeared there, set with… the blue orb? It had shrunk to the size of a gemstone, yet still retained its milky, cloudy interior. _Should you wish to summon me again, the stone you carry may do so. Otherwise, you can return it to its resting place atop the Mountain of Ash._

I fiddled with the ring. It fit perfectly on my right hand ring finger. "Thanks," I said. I'll tell you now that I managed to hang onto that ring even until now—here it is, see? Just like I said. Don't mess with me, or I'll summon the god of the sea to kick your ass. Kidding! …half kidding.

_I return to slumber. The land above is safe again, for now._ A stream of bubbles punctuated Kyogre's statement as it sank into the deeps.

* * *

Emerging back into the sunlight of the cathedral, I was greeted with cheers and applause. Apparently the sister had told everyone why I'd come, and a quick look out the front doors confirmed my success. I brushed off their accolades sheepishly, feeling satisfied by the attention nonetheless. I left the church and stood in the bright sunshine, soaking it up for the first time in weeks.

Reaching now for my PokéNav to call Mom, I… suddenly realized that I couldn't. I didn't have a mom anymore.

A relentless tide of depression washed over me then, and I nearly collapsed from the sadness. This was my fault. If only I'd been quicker to save them… if only I'd gone hunting for Kyogre days earlier… a thousand if onlys and only my thoughts for comfort, much less cheerful than the sunny weather.

I didn't care about the badges anymore, or the League, or anything else. I wanted them back. I wanted my home back. Instead all I had to show for my trouble was a stupid ring. Damn you Kyogre! I should've killed you when I had the chance. But what would that have solved? What good would that have done? I felt forgotten, alone, and afraid. What was the point of it all now?

I felt like I needed to get out. There were a lot of places I could go, but only one promised the maximum solitude. I climb onto Meg/Mog/Mo, whispered my destination, and lifted off. We landed a short time later on the floating dock of Pacifidlog.

I spent just under a week there, doing nothing, deeply depressed. Each morning I would get up, force myself to eat, and go out to some forgotten beach or rock to brood. I cried for hours each day. My Pokémon were no comfort. _Nothing_ was a comfort. I was lost, utterly lost…

And it would be a long time before I'd find myself again.


	19. Sinking

**Chapter 19: Sinking**

This is where my story gets dark.

I mean, it wasn't that rosy to begin with. I've told you many grisly tales: how I first learned the awful truth of real-world Pokémon battles; how I coped as eight of my companions met violent ends, one by one; how I brought down a team of environmental terrorists more or less by myself; how I uncovered my father's infidelity with a woman thirty years his junior, who also happened to be my best friend; how my mother—the only family member I could say I trusted—and my boyfriend—my first lover—died in a terrible flood as I looked on. Those are bleak stories.

But all of that is nothing compared to what came next.

One gloomy morning, about a week into my stay in Pacifidlog, I encountered a familiar face at the hostel. It happened at the breakfast table, as I forced my way through yet another bowl of rice and octopus porridge. In glancing across the room, I happened to spy someone sitting a few seats over.

"Axel?" I gasped, lowering my spoon. "Is that you?"

"Lidya!" Axel replied, just a surprised as I was. "I… I didn't think I'd ever see you again! How are you?" He shifted down the bench and sat across from me.

I looked awful. Black rings under my eyes, hair disheveled, dirty clothes. "Fine," I answered.

"You seem a little… uh…" Axel started. "Did you sleep okay?" He was wearing street clothes, which I'd never seen him in. Cute, stylish street clothes. His hair was spiky.

I nodded, then stopped and shook my head. "No. I haven't slept well for a week now."

"Oh. Why?"

"A… a lot of stuff has happened since I last saw you. God, when was that?" I had to think about it. "Like two months ago?"

"Yeah. Geez." His eyes betrayed concern. "What happened to you?"

I hesitated. I barely knew this guy. But, then again… we'd kissed. He was reliable. And who else did I have? _Need to hang on to any connections I can_, I thought. "You have some time? It's a longish story."

Axel smiled faintly. "I've got all day."

"Come with me then, when you're done with breakfast." I gestured at his bowl of half-eaten porridge. "That is, unless you don't care for the food?"

Axel grimaced. "Ugh, no. I can barely eat this. I think I've lost a few pounds in just the last two days for lack of eating."

"You've been here that long? How have I not seen you?"

He shrugged. "Guess we just missed each other."

I laughed softly at the double meaning. "Yeah. C'mon."

I took him to one of my favorite brooding places: a hidden cove south of the floating town. My "secret base", if you will. I'd found a nifty little cave that was dry and stayed well-lit thanks to a number of cracks in the ceiling. The water lapped gently on the coral sands inside, and I could lie there for hours, staring at the reflection of the waves on the cavern ceiling. I'd even set up a little table and cushion. I'd also put out my mom's Torchic doll.

Sitting there in the shadowy, rippling light, I told Axel about what'd happened since we'd last met: my trip to Mt. Pyre, the theft of the submarine, my battles with Team Aqua, training on the sea, the badge from Mossdeep, Kyogre's awakening, the flood… I omitted my relationship with Brendan from that part. I ended with my defeat of Kyogre and subsequent arrival in Pacifidlog.

"Jeez Lidya, that's so… wow. I can't believe it." He looked so sad.

"Hey, you lost your parents too. You know what it feels like." I couldn't meet his gaze, looked down at my hands instead.

"That doesn't make it easier." He reached out and took my hand. "I'm sorry Lidya."

I cried. "Me too." Without really thinking about it, I said, "I want to just run away from it all. I can't even stand it!"

Axel seemed to consider this. "Wanna go to Johto? I've been meaning to go back."

"I, uh…" I stammered. Run away? For real? Not just to a little fishing village, but to a whole new region—the land where I was born, where I'd lived in blissful ignorance of the brutal world outside my doors? Did I really mean it when I said I wanted to go there?

And maybe it was because he was the second boy to propose running away to Johto, and I'd loved the first; or maybe it was the deep, sudden connection I felt with him, thinking of his dead parents and his kind eyes; or maybe it was the warmth of his hand in mine; or maybe I just didn't care anymore; but whatever the reason, I slowly nodded my head.

"Yeah. Okay. Let's go to Johto."

* * *

We took a flight out of Slateport a few days later, after working out some logistics. My mother's bequest technically had to remain under my father's watch until I was eighteen, but at the funeral I'd convinced him to give me an advance on it. My inheritance, combined with my earnings from Pokémon battles, was more than enough to get me a plane ticket. Axel had money as well, though from what source I didn't know at the time. That's probably something I should've asked about—a clue I could've uncovered, before… but I get ahead of myself.

The day we left, I mailed a letter to Roxanne. In it I explained that I was going to Johto with a guy I knew, reassured her that I'd be fine and that I'd come back some day to see her, and implored her not to tell my father where I'd gone. She was the only person I informed about my impending departure.

Landing in Goldenrod after our six-hour flight was like waking up from a dream. I'd been there before—I rubbed the purple scar on my shoulder—but I'd barely paid attention then. Now that I was going to be here for a while, I tried to take everything in. The change in weather: still warm, but unlike Hoenn's balmy heat. The people: so professional, so cold, so stone-faced, so unlike Hoenn's friendly, smiling occupants. The buildings: towering monsters compared to Hoenn's little fishing towns. Even Rustboro's grandeur was nothing compared to the sprawling metropolis of Goldenrod, Johto's largest city.

Axel led the way out of the airport. He said he still had some friends in Goldenrod and that we'd be staying with them for a couple weeks until we could get our own place. After that, well… after that we'd just see what happened.

I suppose I was happy then. I suppose I enjoyed the freedom, the sense of escape I felt when I left this wretched island. It's hard to look back now and see anything other than the suffering I would later endure. But logically, I know I was overjoyed and exhilarated. I just can't make myself feel it anymore.

Axel's friends were a guy and a girl living together in a cramped two bedroom apartment on the western side of the city, not far from the harbor and the radio tower. The guy was Cliff, a Pokémon nurse, and the girl was Lana, an aspiring rock-type Gym Leader. The two of them were quite nice, actually. Really sweet people, but with one very bad habit: using.

After introductions and getting settled—we were put up in one of their bedrooms, a very generous offer considering how little we'd contribute to rent—Lana and Cliff made us boxed pasta with white cheese and put on some kind of kung-fu movie. I felt comfortable, at-home, relaxed. This was going to be fine. Living here would be fun. We could battle Pokémon out there in the city, go around the region, maybe even pick up some Gym badges. I could visit Olivine again.

"Hey, Cliff," Axel said after a while. "You need healing?"

"Damn right," Cliff replied. "I'm, like, dinging red here."

Axel grinned. "I've got something new for you to try. A local delicacy from Hoenn."

"No kidding?" Lana spoke up. She eagerly pawed at Axel. "Gimme!"

I watched in fascinated curiosity as Axel took a box from his backpack. Lifting the lid revealed a few shrink-wrapped rolls of thick, reddish-brown discs. "These are Lava Cookies," Axel said, "and they're amazing." I breathed a little sigh of relief. Cookies! What had I been worried about?

Cliff and Lana both tried them eagerly, commenting on the flavor and the "buzz". I didn't understand what they meant. "You want one?" Axel asked me. "Sure ya do. Here." He gently pushed the cookie between my lips, and I accepted it, chewing it all up in one bite.

"Whoa! She's a wildcard!" Cliff chuckled.

Lana was looking at me wide-eyed as well. "You're bold, babe!"

"Wha-?" I murmured through a mouthful of crumbs. That's when I noticed that the rest of them were nibbling their cookies—barely a quarter gone.

"Lidya, you're not supposed to… ah, whatever." Axel was grumbling a little, but didn't seem angry.

A few minutes passed. My mouth felt clogged up with the cookie dust. "You gaw any mill?"

"Yeah, second shelf in the fridge," Lana told me. I went to the kitchen and poured myself a little glass. Drank. Felt better—my mouth was clear.

Then I felt something else.

It began as an airy lightness in my face and head, like my skull was a balloon lifting slowly into the sky. The rest of my body followed, tingling and warm. I felt nice, and I smiled, and laughed softly. A blissful calm washed over me. The tips of my fingers shimmered and swam… or was that everything? Lights bled momentarily into one huge wave of color, falling into my eyes like heavy rain, and it was so beautiful that I began to cry, but quickly stopped, feeling self-conscious. I stumbled back to the couch and nestled down in the cushions, trying and failing to watch the movie as a thousand unknown feelings made their way through my flesh.

That was the first time I got high.

I kept it to myself, fearful that I had done something wrong, that I was having a weird reaction to the cookies. But after a while, I noticed two things: first, I felt great, and second, my three companions seemed to be feeling similarly. All were slumped on the couch like cozy Meowth kittens, smiling and sighing with pleasure. And I liked the way I felt, both physically and socially: I'd never hung out with friends like this before, in such a mature, adult way. Even the time I'd spent with Brendan seemed like child's play compared to this, which is kind of ironic considering what Brendan and I did together, but Lana, Cliff, Axel, and I were in an apartment, in a foreign city, enjoying Lava Cookies with no parents in sight. It felt so… _grown up_.

After the movie, the four of us played strip poker. Axel's idea. Having never played poker before, I ended up topless and in my panties by game's end, while everyone else had at least two or three items left. I didn't really even care: the effects of the cookie made all of this seem like a faint dream. I didn't mind when Cliff commented on my "smokin' tits" or when Lana fondled me to "remember what fourteen-year-old breasts felt like". Her comment did trigger one spark of insight: I realized my new friends were older than me, possibly much older. How old was Axel? I'd assumed he was my age, but he'd never said. So, not caring about anything, I asked. Axel was seventeen. Cliff and Lana were both twenty.

And I was fourteen. Fourteen goddamn years old, high, mostly naked in a room with three people at least five years older than me… and I didn't even give a shit. That right there is _pretty fucked up_, thinking about it now.

Later that night, I didn't mind when I heard creaking bedsprings and guttural female groans from Cliff and Lana's bedroom. I didn't mind when Axel invited me into his bed to "cuddle". I didn't mind when he began touching and kissing me, first sweetly, then heatedly. I didn't mind when he asked if I wanted to have sex.

I did, and we did.

* * *

Now there are several wrong ideas that I don't want to give you here. The first is that this is some kind of PSA about drugs, and that I'm blowing my story way out of proportion just to make a point. It's not, and I'm not. This is an honest recounting of what happened to me.

Second is that I didn't enter into this willingly. I did. Not that first night, perhaps, but afterward definitely. I could have walked away. It would have been easier at the beginning, and it got much harder later, but still, the option was always there. I chose to stay.

And the third is that Axel is some kind of exploitive criminal mastermind who manipulated me into going to Johto with him. He's not, although that latter part is perhaps true. Axel was just a very confused, very lonely seventeen-year-old guy who saw an opportunity with a girl he liked and took it. He really was an orphan, really had been taken in by Team Magma, and really did get super awkward sometimes. But what he hadn't told me (and wouldn't tell me until at least a year later) was that his family had been involved with Team Rocket, and that his parents' death was no accident. He also hadn't told me that his time in Hoenn, while unplanned at first, turned into a lucrative smuggling operation with the mainland Rockets once he got established. But had he brought me to Johto just to be his sex slave and drug mule? No, not at all. He honestly liked me—at first—and just wanted me around. I think that was still true at the end, too, although he'd lost sight of it.

So, are we clear? Good.

The next three weeks were pretty great, all things considered. We didn't get high every night, and I didn't sleep with Axel every night, but both of those things happened with decent frequency. I found out from Axel that the Lava Cookies were laced with dronabinol, a chemical that cures status problems in Pokémon and causes euphoric effects in humans. This is the same compound found in Full Heal, available over the counter but far too potent for normal human users to safely consume.

I actually learned _a lot_ about chemistry during my time with Axel. That knowledge came in handy when we were cooking up Rage Candy Bars, Old Gateau, and Ether, but that wasn't for at least a year.

Anyway, the first month was good. I liked Cliff and Lana. They were really nice, and always treated me very well. They didn't seem to care that I was a kid compared to them, and they were very sweet when I told them about what I'd been through. Lana in particular took an interest in me, and often brought me shopping for clothes in the Underground. We battled Pokémon once or twice, but always playfully. I never came at her with everything I had, and that's probably for the best, because to be honest, I was better than her at battling. I didn't want to hurt her feelings. I hoped one day she'd become a Gym Leader like she'd always wanted.

I really liked her. She was my new Taylor—except for the sleeping with my father part.

But alas, like every good thing in my life, the relaxed lifestyle I'd adopted at Cliff and Lana's couldn't last. Eventually Axel found an apartment he was happy with, and we moved there in mid-February. This place was even closer to the docks, on the third floor of a shabby-looking warehouse. There were a couple other apartments there, but the lower half of the building was used for storage by many of the local shipping companies. The one and only thing I loved about our place—a tiny studio—was that on very clear days, I could just make out the huge, needle-like spire known as the Eye of Olivine, far off in the distance across the water. My old home.

Hoenn was, of course, much too far away to see.

We had a lot of fun in those early days. Axel took me all over Goldenrod, showing me his favorite restaurants, shops, and hangouts. We watched movies, saw plays, ate ice cream, went dancing, and explored parks and trails on the north side of town. We also had a lot of sex and did a lot of drugs. After using Lava Cookies and other edible forms of dronabinol for a while, I began to get less high from each use. So I had to eat more and more. Axel noticed this, and one day he introduced me to "puffing". This is when you take the Full Heal—which is in compressed gas form, in an aerosol-type can—and inhale it for just a second at a time. It only takes two or three puffs to get high. You can't use it this way until you've built up a nice tolerance, but fortunately, I had.

This went on for a couple of months. Our mornings began around nine or ten. Axel would go out during the day sometimes, but he'd never take me with him. Said it was "business". We'd often go on dates in the evening. Other times we'd just stay in and watch TV shows or movies on Axel's laptop. We got high at least a few times every week, and had sex probably ten times a month.

I thought I was in love with him. I guess I was, then. Things changed when we ran out of money. _He_ changed.

It happened in June of 2015. I'd been using my personal funds—the money my poor, dead mother left for me—to pay the rent and keep us fed, but Axel said we'd spent most of it. I'd let him handle the money, so I had no idea. He told me I'd need to bring in some cash, because what he was making wasn't enough.

"How?" I asked.

Axel's eyes gleamed. "Do what you're good at." When I looked confused, he kissed my forehead and said, "When was the last time you had a Pokémon battle?"

* * *

The Underground is more than a shopping center: it's an illegal battle syndicate. All you need is a black-market keycard and the knowledge of where to swipe it. I learned all there was to learn in the next few months: how to place bets; how to win the no-holds-barred battles; the exact effects and dosages of X Attack and X Defend necessary to keep a fighting edge; who to talk to; who to avoid. I made a few friends and plenty of enemies down there. The system is rather simple: rich folk and crime bosses from the region come to watch battles and place bets. Different trainers garner different odds. I was an entertainer, essentially, but as my notoriety grew, there was often considerable money riding on my victory. I took a cut of any winnings collected by the bookies, which is how I got an income from my work.

To help my image keep pace with my increasing reputation for ruthless tactics, I had to start wearing slightly different clothing. My arena gear included a spiked choker, a leather jacket, a black skirt, fishnet stockings, and way too much violet eye makeup. I even pierced my ears so I could wear little goth studs. My Crobat fang necklace and toxin scar were big hits, so eventually I modified my jacket to expose my left shoulder, showing off the purple veins of poison forever lingering under my skin. Axel encouraged me to wear black contacts, and after that I adopted a nickname: Toxissa. Not for my strategy in battle, but for my appearance and ruthless nature—or so it was said. In truth I was terrified by every battle.

During an arena match, the trainers are allowed to recall their Pokémon before the combatants get killed, although this is considered a forfeit. I had to do that more than once… but so did everyone else. It was normal practice. Anyway, there were individual battles or occasional tournaments, and to make ends meet, I had to take any work I could get. At my peak I was battling perhaps ten times a day, with few breaks. Unlicensed nurses were on hand to heal up my monsters after each fight.

My Pokémon, once rather peaceful and friendly, became savage killing machines. The audience _always _wanted blood. I can't say for sure how many skulls Hotwings crushed, how many times Ruby gutted a foe with his razor claws, how many limbs Rayne maimed with her teeth. But I can tell you that I was a winner. None of my Pokémon died in those grisly, dirty arenas. Not a single one. And I made a _lot_ of money.

I won't say much more than that. Truthfully, I'd rather not think about it.

This went on steadily for three months, until September. I was making more than ever on the battle circuit, but Axel told me that we were still losing money. I wondered how. Then I noticed that he spent more and more time at home, while _I_ was the one going out during the day (or night—many battles were late in the evening). He'd quit working, and was spending more of our money on himself. But I didn't have the words to confront him, so I let it go.

As another month went by he grew more aggressive, more demanding. He started calling me names, telling me I was ugly, stupid, small. I let it all happen, half-believed him. Sex became one-sided, a chore, something I did mechanically and automatically. Drugs became a daily occurrence. I still battled in the arena, but Axel had something else for me to do next.

God, I was a mess. And it got worse.

* * *

Axel had me start running drugs. I'd figured out why we lived so close to the docks: Axel was one of the many people who picked up smuggled shipments of whatever the substance of choice happened to be that week and ran them across town to deliver them to dealers. He got me to start doing this for him, utilizing my youth and femininity as camouflage. It worked like this: Done up in a cute flowery dress and pigtails, I'd meet his contact at the dock and pretend to be the sailor's daughter, there to pick up a package to "take home". Each "home" had a different call sign, like so: "take this home to mother dearest" meant the safe house near the radio tower; "take this to my sweet wife" was a bar on the south side; "take this to your mom" meant I'd be riding a bike to a building on the outskirts of town, near the national park; and so on. After getting my instructions, I'd tote my parcel in a kitschy handbag and stroll casually through town, the police looking right past me.

It worked great, and amazingly, I never got caught. But it was exhausting, stressful, and didn't pay nearly as well as the battle circuit. At first I couldn't figure out why Axel wanted me to do this at the expense of more battles, but later on I guessed—correctly—that Axel had gotten in some trouble with his Rocket contacts and needed to make sure more shipments arrived safely than had previously been required.

This became my life. I ran drugs a few times a week, and spent the remainder of my time in the underground battle rings, dressed up in leather and spikes. When I came home, Axel and I would use, make something from a box for dinner, and then either knock boots for a while or fall asleep watching TV. The next day was more of the same. And the next. And the next.

And the next six months went like this. I turned fifteen somewhere during that time, with minimal ceremony. We rarely saw Cliff and Lana anymore. No one ever came to our apartment. I lost weight. My hair grew stringy, my eyes sunken, my skin sallow. I'd been an illegal Pokémon duelist for ten months. Everyone knew me… but I knew no one, least of all myself.

It only got better for small windows of time. For example, when I was doing well in a tournament, I'd occasionally get wined and dined by my rich benefactors and put up in a private room in an upscale hotel in downtown Goldrenrod. I, of course, pretended to be eighteen.

Those nights away from Axel felt amazing, and horrible. I missed him desperately and never wanted to see him again. I felt the cravings for the drugs, and even though I always used on my own those nights, I tried to resist as long as I could beforehand. I cried most of the time, even as I relaxed in a bubble bath or watched a movie that I actually _liked_ for once.

Axel and I moved up to harder stuff. Full Heal began to lose its edge, so he introduced me to Ether. Ether was a slightly different chemical and it had somewhat different effects, most notable of which was flushed skin and a "loopy" feeling. You took it the same way you took Full Heal, at first. Later on, Axel taught me how to shoot up, and I started doing that. Then it was Elixir, which is a blend of Ether and Full Heal, if you can believe _that_. They both had the same overall effect: impaired judgement.

I was on Elixir when I got my first tattoo—my idea, and fortunately it was nothing too horrid. Just a Pokéball on my ankle. I still have it, see?

I was on Elixir when I got my nipples pierced—Axel's idea. I took the rings out two weeks later, but my girls have never looked the same since. Not going to show you those.

I was on Elixir when I ran in my underwear through the Underground because Axel and a few of his friend had stolen my clothes while I was showering after an arena battle.

I was on Elixir when I called Lana a "selfish cunt" because she asked me to pay for my own clothes during a rare shopping trip—which is what I normally did anyway. She stopped hanging out with me after that.

And still my life went downhill.

* * *

The worst thing I ever did? Wow, you get right to the guts of it, don't you?

Runner-up is the time I traded the Master Ball for a Max Elixir, which was a so-called "supreme" version of my drug of choice. It was just normal Elixir with caffeine added. What a waste. But the worst thing ever? I think that's a tie between a general activity and a specific event. I'll give you both.

After a crackdown by local police, the battle circuit where I'd been making most of our cash was shut down, at least for a time. Our income evaporated overnight. Axel and I began working overtime on drug running, but we could only do it as often as the shipments arrived, and they were getting scarcer as police activity increased. So we started resorting to… other means.

He and I cooked up drugs in our apartment. His surprisingly extensive knowledge of chemistry meant we ended up nearly killing ourselves only once or twice, and after a while we were comfortably manufacturing Old Gateau (an edible containing dronabinol), Rage Candy Bars (a chocolate variant of Full Heal), and Ether. Our highly-trained staff and laboratory facilities—us and our bathroom—didn't allow for a huge level of production, but it was enough, usually.

That's the bad activity, but here's the bad instance: a few days after a particularly nasty accident in which Axel burnt off part of his left pinky finger, we were totally out of stock of all our goods and still in need of some cash. So Axel proposed another option.

"I've got this friend," he began, "who's seen you around the arena before. He's a Rocket guy, real nice, not a thug at all. Named Johnny."

"Uh huh," I grunted, reclining on the sofa, half-lucid after my second puff of Ether. "Johnny Rocket."

"Anyway, he's asked about you a few times, and I told him to make an offer, and, well, he offered enough for three months room and board."

"Offer?" I rose halfway up. "Offer for what?"

"Lids," Axel said, almost pleadingly, "_three months room and board_. Think about how much PP that could get us. Plus we could go out to dinner a few times. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Yeah, okay, but what exactly are we talking about? What is his offer _for_?"

"For you. For one night. Tonight, actually." He took the Ether bottle from my hand. "So you gotta sober up a bit before then. And we'll get you a nice dress, some makeup. He's got a reservation at that seafood place by the GTS, six o'clock." I hadn't the strength to protest, so I silently got up and followed Axel out the door, headed for the Underground to pick up an outfit that a strange man would take off of me later that day.

And, well… that was the first and only time I had sex for money. We blew half of it on Elixir and spent about a week toasted out of our minds. I never heard from Johnny Rocket again—Axel said he got arrested not long after our tryst.

So, there. Which was worse: making drugs or prostituting myself?

* * *

Can… can we stop for a minute? This is really hard to talk about. Seriously. Put the mic away.

I said put it away, asshole! Stop recording!

…fine. You won't be deterred, I can see. I'm going to move on. There are so many more stories I could tell you about the year and seven months I spent in the underbelly of Goldenrod, but as I've pointed out before, this is not a story about that.

This is a story about how I conquered the strongest trainers in Hoenn and became the youngest Champion in League history.

Perhaps you are wondering how in the world I went from a drug-addicted criminal to Pokémon Champion? Well, I have just one person to thank for that. Because of them, I'm sitting here on this throne today. Because of them, I'm alive, and sober, and more or less happy, instead of dead in a gutter somewhere in Johto.

I owe it all to someone I never expected to see again.

I first noticed the hooded figure following me during one of my usual shipment runs in mid-July of this year, 2016. Try as I might to shake the tail, it kept on me, always staying just out of sight. But I'd spent too long doing this to be caught so easily. I clambered agilely up a fence, then ducked into an alley, took the fire escape, skirted over some rooftops, and dropped back down to the streets again. The figure was gone. Lost my scent. Good.

But they appeared again a few days later. Again I shook them.

Again they appeared. This wasn't going to stop through evasion—I needed to be bolder. It was a few days before the end of July, I recall. The figure in the hoodie was following me through a deserted warehouse district… by my design.

Stopping in the middle of an open area, and knowing my pursuer was hiding behind a building nearby, I drew a Pokéball from my belt. "Go, Hotwings," I murmured, letting him out. The bird, muscular and fierce, stood at my side, ready for my command. "Hold." I turned and called out, "Whoever you are, come out! I know you can hear me!"

Hesitantly, the hooded figure edged out from its hiding place. I could make out a female body beneath the baggy sweatshirt—a woman, then. Who? One of my rivals from the arena? A Rocket lackey, come to poach the goods I was hauling? Whoever they were, they'd picked the wrong girl to mess with. The figure walked closer, until she stood just ten feet from me.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have my Blaziken spill your brains on the pavement," I menaced icily.

The figure removed her hood, revealing a thick crop of red hair. I gasped, my breath locked in my throat.

"Hello Lidya," Taylor said. "It's been a long time."


	20. Recovery

**Chapter 20: Recovery**

I didn't know what to say, how to react. I was suddenly confronted with myself, with the life I'd fled from over a year prior. I felt a dozen things: terror, shame, guilt, rage, grief, and a slurry of other powerful emotions, all at once.

"T-t… Taylor?" I managed to stammer.

"Go to your apartment and pack your things," Taylor said calmly. "I'll be back for you tomorrow. Five in the morning."

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm getting you out of here."

I shook my head. "I… I don't want to leave. I like it here."

"Bullshit," Taylor snapped. I'd never heard her swear before. "You're miserable."

Could I argue with her on that? I thought of Axel, and the sting of his hand where he'd struck me across the face two days ago. I thought of the disgusting chemical stink that hovered over our apartment constantly, and the burns on my hands from our work. I thought of the grunts of Johnny Rocket as he got what he paid for.

"I… but…" I stumbled. Tears started to roll down my cheeks. "Taylor, I can't just… I mean, I've got… I have to…" I was thinking now of the high that I'd started craving fifteen minutes ago. Of the simplicity of my job. Of knowing exactly what to do, because I'd done it every day for the past twelve months. Of never having to watch my Pokémon die, or face the prospect of disappointing anyone. I was already a failure; at least I was out of sight of those who'd once believed in me. But not anymore.

"Lidya," Taylor said softly, walking forward in measured steps. Hotwings growled. "Lidya, look. You've got to come home. Please." She was nearly beside me now.

"No!" I shrieked, stepping back. "Hotwings!" The bird snapped his head round to look at me, poised, waiting only for one word. Taylor froze, a look of sudden panic in her eyes. She knew one kick from the bird would crack her skull wide open. "Hotwings, knock her down!" Hotwings delivered a gentle—for him—blow to Taylor's sternum, sending her toppling backward. She coughed.

"Lidya… please…" the woman rasped.

"Hotwings…" I repeated, losing steam. My companion stood poised to end it, his taloned foot locked back for a deadly kick. _What am I doing?_ "Hotwings, return." I brought him back to his ball, and fell to my knees. Taylor struggled to her feet, walked to me, then bent over and wrapped me in her arms. Despite the chilly winter air, I felt warm for the first time in weeks.

"Lidya, I'm going to help you. Please, _let me help you_." She patted my back, then rose and put her hood on. Her face became shrouded. "Tomorrow at five. Be ready." She turned and left me lying there, sobbing on the ground.

But I was too far gone. That much should be quite apparent by now. I made a token effort at packing, but it was hard with Axel around, so I sent him on an errand. I then loaded as much Full Heal and Ether as I could into my bag, leaving behind keepsakes I'd brought from Hoenn. Even my mom's Torchic doll remained sitting on the shelf, rejected in favor of another bottle of Elixir. I wish more than anything that I'd kept that tattered old thing.

I didn't sleep that night, but I did make love to Axel one last time. It was passionate and dirty and I hated myself for doing it, because I hated him then, hated the ruthless oppression he'd inflicted upon me, hated him for taking me away from my grief and never letting it heal, hated him for forcing me to do so many things I never would've done otherwise, never wanted to do, and even as I kissed him I wished I could drive a blade through his heart and watch the blood gush out… yet somewhere inside I wanted what we'd never really had: the innocent kind of love I'd shared with Brendan. The kind of love I thought we'd find when I went to Johto with him—but it was not to be.

I took way too much Elixir at three-thirty and bolted at four. Taylor was, smartly, waiting for me, and before I saw her she'd snagged me with a rag dipped in sleep powder, and I was out.

* * *

I woke up with wind rushing by my ears. "Where'm I?" I groaned, woozy and delirious. I could see stars.

"I'm taking you to the Orange Archipelago," Taylor explained. We were atop a Pidgeot, hurtling over the sea at a breakneck pace, and I was seated behind her with my hands tied around her waist. "Try to go to sleep. It's going to be a while yet."

I didn't have to be told twice. An overdose of Elixir means a nasty spell of drowsiness, and I was in the thick of it. I slept the remainder of the trip.

When I woke up again, I was reclining on a sofa in a comfortable, well-furnished room. There was an IV in my arm. I could hear waves lapping outside, and the sky through the window was blue and clear. "Hoenn?" I rasped. Where the hell was I?

"Good morning," Taylor said. She sounded tired. I looked over, saw her sitting in a chair at a small table. "You've been asleep for almost a day now."

"Is that why I'm so sore…" I grunted. "Where are we?"

"This is the Pummelo Island Recovery Center." When I looked perplexed, she added, "It's rehab."

"Rehab?"

"Lidya… you have a problem."

Lacking my usual means of coping with difficult emotions—a hit of Ether—I felt overwhelmed by her statement. "No I don't. I can stop."

"Ha!" Taylor scoffed.

"Why are you being so mean to me?" I demanded, suddenly wanting to cry.

Instantly she softened again. "I'm sorry. It's just… god, I've been searching for you for over six months now. It took me forever to find you. I'm just so glad you're still alive, and so furious that this happened to you." Her head fell. "But I shouldn't take it out on you. You didn't know what you were doing."

"Don't treat me like a child," I growled. "I'm fifteen. And I've been living on my own for years now, ever since I started my Pokémon journey."

"Lidya." Taylor got up and moved her chair closer to me. I could see circles under her eyes—awake all night. "You nearly died last night from the Elixir you took. But the doctors here say that, with time and effort, you can fully recover. You can be free of your addiction." She reached out and took my hand. "Don't you want that?"

"I don't have a problem! Take me back to Goldenrod." I pouted.

Taylor's face dropped. "I see." She stroked my hand with her fingers. "Listen, I want to tell you something."

"What?"

"It's about… your dad and me."

"I don't want to hear it."

"Yeah, I thought you'd say that." She let my hand fall, rose, headed for the door. "I'll be staying here for a while yet. When you're ready to talk, please let me know and I'll be there." She exited.

I spent some time surveying my surroundings. My IV was on a little cart with wheels, so I could walk around with it. I studied the room. All of my belongings were here, minus my Pokémon and the drugs I'd scavenged from the apartment. There was an attached bathroom, a little bedroom, another small room with a chair and books, and a balcony. I stood outside, taking in the cool winter air and sea breeze. It felt like… home.

The Orange Archipelago is located south of Johto and Kanto; not quite as far out as Hoenn, but definitely remote. I'd only heard stories of the beauty of the place, and they were all true. It's a tropical paradise, radiant with crystal-clear water and white sands.

I spent some time in the study, reading. There were books there about addiction, recovery, and healing. It didn't take long for me to break down. What had happened to me, what I'd been through… it was so bleak and awful that I couldn't face it, but now, alone and safe, I finally let myself consider the terrible truth: my life was in ruins. I cried for hours.

First came detox. This was not a pleasant process, so I'll spare you the details. It mostly involved a lot of sweating, screaming, vomiting, feeling like shit, wanting to die, cursing, and hallucinating. Luckily, the center was well-equipped to deal with this, and thanks to the medical cocktail they kept me on, my symptoms were handled pretty quickly as they occurred. I was "purified" in five days, meaning I no longer had any physical withdrawal symptoms.

Another three days went by, during which I learned the pattern of the place: meals at regular hours, either in the mess hall or delivered to my room as I preferred; group therapy during certain parts of the day, during which people shared their experiences; sessions with a counselor to help me understand the nature of addiction and why I should commit to living a clean life; and plenty of free time to wander the grounds, swim at the beach, or explore the nearby gardens. What surprised me most was the lack of security: there were no locks. I could leave whenever I wanted. My Pokémon were waiting at the front desk, and it was just a short **surf** to the next island, where there was an airport.

So… I left. In the afternoon on the ninth day, I collected my Pokémon from the desk, put on my small backpack with some meager rations, and set out aboard Rayne. It was amazing to be out at sea again—I'd forgotten what **surf**ing on a Pokémon felt like. There was nothing but me, the waves, and the green hills of the islands in the distance. I had Rayne use **dive**, and discovered a entirely different world of undersea life in the waters of the Archipelago.

_If I go back to Johto_, I thought as I floated beside a brilliant bed of colorful coral, _I lose all of this. Again_. And it hit me. The life I'd been leading was a wretched, unhappy one, and I wanted to get better. I turned around and went back. The clerk at the desk did not look surprised. From then forward, I committed my efforts to the work of recovering, and, slowly, I felt better. Happier. More like myself again.

The next day, I called Taylor to my room to talk. She came gladly, and said as much. "I'm so happy that you're getting better," she told me as we took tea by the window. "Are you ready to hear my story?"

"I think so," I said.

"It's not too complicated, but I want you to understand why things turned out how they did." She took a breath. "Okay, so, here we go: when I met you, I'd also just met your father. I barely knew him then, but as you and I became better friends, I became friends with him too. He explained to me that he and his wife were separated, and that she was fine with whatever he did on his own time. She was, he told me, seeing someone herself. I believed him."

I narrowed my eyes. "But that wasn't true."

"No, it wasn't. I didn't find that out for a while, though. Anyway, I fell in love with him. He was so kind, so sweet, so strong… I thought he was amazing." She explained a series of dates they'd been on, and I urged her to skip ahead, not wanting to get into the nitty-gritty of my father's romantic life with another woman. "Okay, that day at the Gym. You weren't supposed to be there until the afternoon, he said, so I didn't expect to see you. And of course I felt awful. Beat myself up for days about it. I knew I should've told you, but I couldn't bring myself to do it." She rubbed her forehead. "I'm sorry, Lidya."

"Hey, it's done. Whatever."

She didn't seem satisfied with that, but said, "Afterward, things were stable again for a while. When you went the hospital for poisoning, I desperately wanted to see you, but Norman forbid me from coming. Probably the right move. Later, when his wife was killed, he took it really hard. I felt so bad for both of you. But I knew you'd reject me if I reached out."

"Probably."

"So I waited. I bided my time. I knew if I was going to have a future with your dad, I needed you to be in it. But, as it turned out, there wasn't a future there for me. Your dad changed after Leaf died. He seemed to see our relationship as a badge of shame, as if the final betrayal had killed her, rather than the flood. So we broke it off."

I was surprised. "You and my dad split up?"

"Yeah. I'm single now. We ended it last October."

I mulled this over. "And after that?"

"After that I moved to Rustboro and got a job at the Pokémon Center. I've been there ever since."

"So wait… how did you find me, then?" But I already had a feeling about the answer.

"Roxanne," Taylor said with a smile. "She and I became friends, and when I mentioned you, she spilled the whole thing. Couldn't bear the guilt of not doing something to help you. Begged me to save you."

"Then you came here for her?"

"No Lidya. I came here for _you_." Her gaze was steady. "I started looking for you six months ago. I was a lot like a kid, actually: borrowed a starter so I could gather some Pokémon, raised my team, wandered the land. I'm a real trainer now. That Pidgeot I flew you here on? She's mine. Her name is Speckles." Taylor beamed proudly. "I've been all over Johto, searching for you. Fought a lot of trainers along the way, since the only safe thing to do was get Pokémon, and that meant becoming a League member. Fortunately, I managed to track you down after hearing about 'some chick with a toxic scar' from a Rocket goon who often fought in the arena at the Underground. It didn't take too long to locate you after that."

I nodded slowly, beginning to cry. "Taylor… thank you. You must really… c-care about me…" It hurt to have someone love me enough to hunt for me for months on end. Taylor's kindness broke my heart, and I forgave her in that moment for everything, eager to take her back.

She smiled, her eyes wet and shimmering as she held back tears. "I do care for you Lidya. I always have. I… I love you like a sister." We rose and hugged, crying together.

I didn't want to ever stop.

* * *

Rehab took a month. They equipped me with all the knowledge and tools I'd need to avoid using again, and after what I'd been through, I was in no hurry to go down that road a second time. Taylor had gone back to work shortly after our talk, so I handled the remainder of my time alone.

I came to the realization that I'd wanted to escape. That's what my counselor often said people did: run to drugs to get away from problems. I had a lot of those, didn't I? Broken family, dead mom _and _dead boyfriend, lost Pokémon… I'd been alone and desperate. Axel provided an exit. But once I got settled into that lifestyle, it slowly went downhill from there, and I became so comfortable, so afraid of failing, that I wouldn't leave unless forced.

I knew what I had to do now. There was only one way to redeem myself, one way to get back what I'd lost, what I'd _given_ away.

I had to be _the_ _best there ever was_.

Returning to Hoenn by plane, I stepped out of the airport outside Slateport to happy greetings from my only two friends, Taylor and Roxanne. Dad was there too, and I while I was still tentative around him, I felt glad he'd come to see me. The four of us got dinner that night, sharing some stories about the past year and a half. I left out the particularly unpleasant ones.

After the meal, Roxanne and Taylor headed for bed, but my father asked to speak to me privately before I went to join them.

"Lidya," he said. There was a shyness to his tone, something I'd never really heard from him before.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know why I… never told you about Pokémon?"

I hadn't expected that. "Uh, I… well… I mean…" _Tell him how you really feel!_ "No, and frankly I'm hurt that you didn't." _There. Nice_.

Norman winced. "After what you've gone through—partly because of me—I feel like I owe you an explanation." He cleared his throat, another nervous gesture. "It's simple, really. I didn't want you to get hurt."

"What?"

"Pokémon are a double-edged sword. With them, you can reach untold new heights of power, glory, and fulfillment. But they can just as easily wound you to your core. When they pass, it's… I guess I don't have to tell you what that feels like." I shook my head. Dad took a breath. "I kept it from you because I hoped—stupidly—that you would just lose interest. That you would never have to endure that trials I'd endured with my Pokémon. It didn't feel like the right path for you."

I stared him down. I felt emboldened by his timidity. "You had no right to keep that from me. Not when it was such a big part of your life. Not when you knew I'd come to it eventually—you must've known that."

His hands went to my shoulders. "There's a time and a place for everything, Lidya. I just didn't ever find the right moment."

I met his gaze. "Fine." I hugged him grudgingly, and took my leave.

The next day, I made an announcement to my three assembled friends and family: I was going to resume my Gym challenge and become the Champion. Nothing would stop me this time. They clapped and cheered. I felt great—and terrified. The stakes felt even higher than before, somehow.

My Pokémon needed retraining. After nearly a year of gloves-off arena combat, they weren't quite ready for the more "civilized" forms of battle I'd encounter at the final Gym or with the Elite Four. So we took to the seas as I'd done in the past, catching and knocking out countless Pokémon, regaining our strength, reforging our bonds as a team. I did this for a week.

The final Gym lay on an island in the center of Sootopolis. Inside were waterfalls and ice sculptures, as well as a slew of trainers. I bested them all handily.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the Leader said as I stepped up to his platform. He was thin, pale man, with a blue and white shirt and matching cape, purple pants, and jagged blue hair. "I'm Wallace, the Gym Leader."

"Lidya Pine," I said curtly. "I'm here to take that badge you've got."

Wallace chuckled, a high-pitched warble. "And what makes you think you can do that, young lady? I'm the strongest Gym Leader in Hoenn. Only the Elite Four and the Champion can best me in combat. So what makes you so sure you can do the same?"

"Because I know what it's like to struggle against hardship," I answered. "I know what it means to overcome challenges. And I _know_ I'm stronger than you."

Wallace smirked. "We shall see. Go, Luvdisc!"

"Juliet!" She mangled the foe with a barrage of leaves, knocking it out. I resisted the urge to order the kill, like I usually had back underneath Goldenrod. Old habits and all that.

"Nicely done! Next up is Sealeo!" A pudgy sea lion, blue and white, landed with a splat on the icy floor.

"Return Juliet. Go, Polaris!" The hovering hulk shocked the seal into submission. And so it went for the next Pokémon, Seaking. Whiscash, a water and ground type, was immune to electricity, so I returned Juliet to the field and let her take care of it.

"Last one," Wallace said, not waiting for a reply. "Milotic!" A magnificent Pokémon appeared before me. It was long, perhaps twelve feet, and covered in shining pink and cream scales. Its eyes were two crescent moons, its tail a blue rainbow. It was beautiful. And, it turned out, fearsome.

"**Leech** **seed**!" I barked. Spores landed on the enemy, sapping its energy.

"**Ice** **beam**!" Ouch! Juliet shivered violently as she was struck by the blast of cold, but held on. I swapped her for Polaris. "**Thunder** **wave**!" Now the lovely beast was paralyzed.

"**Water pulse**!" Milotic fired a rippling shot of water, sending Polaris into a daze. I noticed my commands failing, and Polaris shocking itself.

"Shake it off!" I cried. "**Shock**!" At last, a blast connected… but what was this?

"**Recover**!" Milotic shut its eyes and swayed in place a moment. Its wounds closed.

"Damn, a healer," I muttered. "Polaris, to me!" The magnetic monster drifted over and floated beside me. I administered a Super Potion, taking care not to even smell the chemical if I could help it. Sending the renewed fighter back into the ring, I settled in for stall tactics. I knew if I could just keep the enemy seeded, paralyzed, and constantly taking shock damage, I'd eventually prevail. It took four more Super Potions, but we did it. Milotic eventually lost its strength and tumbled to the floor. Success!

"Well _done_, Lidya!" Wallace cheered. Suddenly he was my biggest fan, going on and on about my technique, about the grace and charm of my Pokémon. It was… weird.

"Can I have my badge, please?" I said uncomfortably.

"Oh, right! Here." He gave me the Rain Badge and the TM for **water pulse**. Thanking me profusely for the "excellent" battle, he showed me out of the Gym, promising he'd rematch any time I wanted.

_Whatever, guy._ I didn't have time for niceties. I was on a mission, and now the final way was open to me. It was time to tackle the greatest challenge I'd yet faced, or so they said. Time to go up against a place that would show me the darkest side of myself… and perhaps save a young man from the same grim fate I'd suffered.

It was time to face Victory Road.


	21. Journey's End

**Chapter 21: Journey's End**

Victory Road is designed to make trainers doubt themselves. A cavernous complex built literally inside the belly of a volcanic cone, it would've been a difficult challenge even without the constant trainer battles and wild Pokémon attacks. The Pokémon inside the caves are highly-evolved and tough, permitted by local authorities to multiply in order to create an even greater obstacle for aspiring trainers. To even reach the entrance, trainers must climb a massive wall of water, and once inside, a trainer will need Pokémon with all sorts of moves. It's a nightmare, and I couldn't wait.

After teaching **waterfall** to Ms. Splish, I was able to climb the falls that protected the entrance to the deadly tunnels. The island was tiered, so scaling the waterfall brought me to the first level. High above in the distance I could see the grand structure that I knew housed the Pokémon League. It was an imposing fortress, with sweeping spires and battlements, an ancient castle. I wondered if it really _were_ an old castle, or if it'd just been built to look like one.

There was, remarkably, a Pokémon Center and a trainer hostel just before the Victory Road entrance. I wandered inside the PC, and stopped, shocked. The place was _packed_. How could there be so many trainers wanting to challenge the League? How hard _was_ Victory Road? My confidence wavered. Lingering a bit longer, I overheard some trainers talking about a strictly-enforced rule of Victory Road: if you lose to another trainer during your time inside the cave, you must come back to the entrance and start over. No going on ahead. So _that_ explained why there were such an abundance of trainers here: most had lost a battle and were preparing for another attempt. Would I be joining them in the cycle?

I spent the night at the hostel before embarking the next morning. I was sure it would be a tough journey, and it was. Unfortunately, by the rules of the Pokémon League, I'm not supposed to disclose the specifics of the challenges a trainer will face in Victory Road. So all I can tell you is that I battled a lot of tough trainers, failed to catch a new wild Pokémon, and bumped into someone I'd never expected to see again, right near the end of the path.

"Hey! Trainer!" a curiously familiar voice shouted. I looked around, but couldn't find the source. Too dark. "You, halt!" the voice repeated. I spun my head as someone walked up to me out of the gloom.

It was a young man. "Fight me," he said plainly. "I won't ask twice."

"Oh my god… Wally?" I asked. "Is that you?"

The boy started, but remained composed. "The fuck are you talking about? How do you know my name?"

"It's me, Lidya Pine. From Littleroot."

Recognition. "Oh, Lidya. Right. Hey." His demeanor, while still fearsome, softened somewhat. "Strange running into you here." He'd grown over the years—but then, so had I—and now stood slightly taller than me. He was still lanky and lean, but had a healthy look about him, and I figured his lung issues must've gotten resolved at some point. His green hair was long and tangled.

"Wow, Wally. I can't believe it. What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to challenge the Elite Four," Wally explained. He showed me his collection of eight badges. "You?"

"Same." We studied one another for a moment. It felt surreal, bumping into him like this. So many questions tumbled through my mind.

"Can you believe all those weak-ass trainers back there?" Wally said unprompted, gesturing with his head toward the deeper portions of the cave we'd already traversed. "They're not tough at all. No idea how they got this far. Bunch of cheating pussies, probably, sucking Gym Leader cocks for badges." He laughed.

Startled by his language and dismissive attitude, I said, "Well, I mean, sometimes people have off days, or the matchup is unfavorable, or..."

"Excuses," Wally answered with a bit of a sneer, still looking back at the darkness behind us. "Those idiots are pathetic. I will _never_ be like them." He turned his gaze back to me. There was malice in it. "I _never_ lose. And I don't plan to start now." I saw in his eyes that he meant it. Something had changed in him, something I couldn't understand. Was this really the same terrified kid I'd helped back in Petalburg?

"What _happened_ to you, Wally?" I asked uneasily.

He shrugged. "Pokémon happened to me."

I made a confused face. "Huh?"

Wally rolled his eyes. "Pokémon happened. Once my Ralts and I got settled in Verdanturf, we started battling trainers and wilds. I was such a little bitch back then, always crying and whining and getting scared. After I started winning, I realized how lame I was. So I just… stopped being lame."

"Okay."

"My Ralts was tougher than average. I'd put it in the top percentage of Ralts, I think. It has stuck with me the whole time, but any other Pokémon I had that wasn't performing to its potential, I boxed. Any Pokémon that made mistakes in battle, I boxed. Or just released, sometimes. I don't need that shit, and I don't have time for it. One thing led to another with my training, and, well, here I am now. Eight badges and a thousand times better than all those losers I beat on the way in here." His voice was full of genuine loathing. "It's funny, though. I don't kill Pokémon on purpose, right? But sometime it happens. And whenever it does and the other trainer cries or freaks out, I just laugh. Because that's so fucked up. Crying over some dumb animal? Fucking moronic."

I recognized something in his words and attitude. I'd seen it before—in the Goldenrod Underground. No matter what happened during a battle, I was always thinking about keeping my Pokémon safe. Others down there… they'd work their creatures to exhaustion, and then goad them on further, never satisfied. If a Pokémon fell in the arena, it was never that trainer's fault. It was the Pokémon's fault for being weak, they said. Pokémon are expendable, they said.

"Wally," I murmured cautiously, "Pokémon aren't weapons."

He put up a hand. "Don't. Not you too. I've heard this song-and-dance a dozen fucking times." His tone became mocking and high. "'Pokémon are your companions!' 'Pokémon are your best friends!' Tauroshit. They aren't capable of those kinds of emotions. Have you ever actually watched your Pokémon when they're alone? They only care about three things: eating, sleeping, and fighting. And maybe fucking, when they meet one of their own species." He let out a bit of a growl. "So don't start with me on this friend-to-all-Pokémon crap. It's stupid, and if you believe it, you're stupid too."

"Wally, that's… I'm sorry, but you're wrong. Pokémon can be your friends. They're complex animals with deep feelings," I pleaded. "You can't treat them like tools." I was thinking now of Kyogre—weaponized by Team Aqua, it had no choice but to fight until I subdued it.

"Enough." His steely eyes settled on me. "I guess there's one more loser I still have to beat before I'm done with Victory Road."

"Wally, I-"

"Fight me, Lidya." He drew a Pokéball. "It's really fitting that you and I fight here, at the end of Victory Road. It'll be my last trial before the Elite Four." He smirked. "You should put up a good fight. I know you're strong."

"I am."

"Good! Consider our battle begun, then!" Wally rolled his shoulders, then took a Pokéball from his belt. "Go, Altaria!"

_Altaria, huh?_ I considered this. My brain felt fuzzy after so many hours in the dark and cold of the caves. "Get'm Polaris!"

The two faced off—bird against… uh, magnet thing. A few **shock**s were all it took to bring down the foe.

Wally swore profusely. "You got lucky. Delcatty!" A pink and orange cat emerged, mewling. I'd seen one of these before, back at my dad's gym. I knew how to handle it.

"Hotwings, **double kick**!" It was over in one round.

"Dammit!" Wally shrieked. I could see the temples on his forehead throbbing. "Magneton!" He was getting angry.

I remained collected. "**Double kick**." Another one-hit knockout.

Wally was fuming now. I felt a bit afraid of his rage. What was he capable of? This was not the sickly child I'd seen two years ago. What stood before me now was a young man with hatred in his heart.

"You… you're… fuck you!" Wally grumbled. "Roselia!" A familiar flowering creature appeared.

I remained stoic, composed. "**Blaze kick**." One hit.

"God _dammit_! All right, you wanna play games? You wanna fucking play games with me? Gardevoir!" Ah, Wally's Ralts had grown up. Of course. An elegant creature emerged from the ball. It had a green mane hanging down over one eye and a red crest on its breast. Its body was covered in a wide, gown-like coat of green and white.

"Hotwings, come back." I knew instinctively who to use. "Go, Rayne."

Wally stared. "What is that?" he asked. "What type is that?" How could he not have seen a Sharpedo by now? His loss.

I smiled coyly. "Make a move and find out."

"No, I'm serious. Where did you get that?"

I let out a little sigh. "From the seas around Hoenn. There are plenty of them down there. Surely you must've gone fishing or diving by now?"

Wally shook his head. "I borrowed my Uncle's Swellow. I flew to all the Gyms. It seemed stupid to walk."

That explained it. "Well, you're never going to know what this Pokémon can do unless you attack."

"Fine! **Psychic**!" Gardevoir channeled power, its eyes glowing.

"**Crunch**," I retorted.

The blast of psychic energy slammed into Rayne… and dissipated harmlessly. Rayne lunged forward and took hold of Gardevoir's throat with its teeth. I heard the creature cry out in pain—a howling whine.

There was a moment, then, when everything was still. I looked into Wally's eyes, and he stared back, unafraid. Furious. Thinking only of rage, only of revenge, against me and against everyone, for wrongs never committed, only imagined. I couldn't just let him walk away from this. Even if I beat him now, it wouldn't matter to him: he'd just come back tomorrow and blow through Victory Road again. Wally had become a monster… and yet I couldn't say I blamed him. Had I allowed the darkness of the Underground to take hold of my heart, I would've been in his shoes now. Had Taylor not come to save me—gods bless her—it would be me ruthlessly crushing trainer after trainer on my way to the League.

There was, however, one way to stop him. One horrific way that, wish as I might, now felt like the only solution. I was too far gone to turn back now, but him… he might still be able to escape. If he could just see what he was doing… if he could just feel the pain those other trainers had felt… but was it right? Or was I just perpetuating the cycle?

I made my choice. My conscience would take the fall.

"The road I'm on, Wally, is a hard one," I said calmly, like a teacher. "A road full of death, and pain, and suffering."

"I don't give a _shit_ what road you're on," he sneered. "I'm going to be the Champion. No one is going to stop me. Do you understand that? _No one_. Even if you beat me now, I'll just be back right here tomorrow. Even if _you_ become the Champion, I will still come and kick your ass."

"Maybe," I answered. "You have the determination. But do you have the resilience? The strength to bounce back? Have you felt loss, and then overcome it?"

"What do you-"

"Pokémon are _not_ toys. They are living, breathing creatures that deserve respect and care. Until you see that, you aren't _worthy_ of being the Champion."

Wally bristled. "All you do is talk, talk, talk. I was wrong about you, I think. You're not strong. You're a pussy, just like the rest of them." He began to taunt me. "C'mon, what're you gonna do? Huh? What do you think you can possible do to stop me?"

"This." I narrowed my eyes at Wally and took a deep breath. "Rayne… kill."

Rayne drove her jagged teeth deep into Gardevoir's throat, sending a jet of blood geysering into the cave wall. The shark twisted her muscular neck, snapping the foe's spine. Then she let it go. The Pokémon tumbled to the ground, its throat a twisted mess of gore. It lay there, twitching in its death spasms.

I casually summoned Rayne back to her ball. My heart was pounding, but I kept my voice steady as I said, "I'm sorry, Wally, but I couldn't let you walk down the road I'm on. This was the only way to stop you."

Wally stared at his dead Pokémon. His eyes betrayed nothing. Slowly, he walked to its side. "You… you'll… I'll make you sorry for this" he said quietly. "No matter where you go. No matter if you're the Champion. You will _pay_." His voice was barely above a whisper, full of tension.

I shrugged. I wasn't sure if he understood. "Get out of here, Wally. You lost. Go back." After a second, I added, "I'll take care of your Pokémon."

"Like hell you will." He picked up the crimson-dyed corpse—staining his clothes with its blood—and turned around. Without another word, Wally walked away into the murk.

I stared at his back, watching him go. Had I made the right choice? Without his primary Pokémon, he'd be set back weeks or months of training. It would be a long time before he could challenge the Elite Four.

The look in his eyes when his Gardevoir fell still haunts me, even now.

* * *

I emerged sweaty, dirty, and exhausted from the final leg of Victory Road: a fifty-foot belly crawl through a narrow cave passage, with only the light from my Magneton to guide me. If they intended to keep overweight trainers out of the Pokémon League, well done. I'd had a tight squeeze, and I was pretty thin.

The cave exit takes you to a wide, beautiful staircase carved directly into the stone of the volcano. At the top of the steps lies the towering structure of the Pokémon League headquarters. I marveled at its size and grandeur. Blinking in the bright sun, I made my way up the steps and to the doors. Inside was a plush lobby, with velvet couches, thick carpet, and crystal chandeliers. There were two large desks on the far wall—one labeled PC, the other MART—as well as a set of massive doors between them, guarded by two sentinels in League uniform. Curved staircases led upward on either side of me. I studied some signage and navigated my way to the trainer hotel on the second floor.

After checking in, I went to the office and put my name down for an Elite Four challenge. The system is such that interested trainers must wait until an opening before they can go against the masters. The Elite Four only took one challenger per day, so it was often a waiting game. There were five trainers ahead of me in line. I'd be there a while.

I located the library next. Time to prepare myself for what was ahead. The League catalog included replays of Elite Four and Champion matches from the past, which I began watching in earnest. I did this for hours each day, taking notes, scribbling ideas down and then crossing them out, thinking, mulling, scheming. Everything needed to be perfect. My Pokémon had to be equipped with right moves. I had to anticipate every enemy I'd encounter, be ready for every attack.

I waited five days before I was allowed my turn. I grew quite restless during that time, and even resorted to going back into Victory Road. I ruined a few trainer's days by beating them near the end of the tunnels. When the night before my match finally arrive, I could barely sleep.

"Guys," I said to my team. I'd let them all out in my room—even Ms. Splish, whose tail was out the window, resting on the balcony. "This is it. This is the final battle. After this… after this, you'll be champions. I just want to thank all of you for what you've done." I began to cry a little. Hotwings was nuzzling my shoulder. Ruby curled up by my feet. "Some of you might not make it through this… So, I… I love you. Please understand that." I ruffled Hotwings' feathers, smiling through my tears. "All of you have been so strong and good to me… I owe you everything. I owe you my life so many times over." I looked at Hotwings and Rayne. They'd both saved me from harm or death at least once—Hotwings several times. "But all of you are special to me."

I handed out a round of Pokémon treats, returned them to their balls, and settled in for bed. If I failed tomorrow… but I wouldn't fail. I couldn't. Not after I'd come this far. I knew I could try again if the Elite Four beat me, but if they did, was I really worthy of being the Champion? Could I even beat the Champion, if I couldn't get past

A sleeping pill later, and I was out.

I dreamt of the battles I'd viewed and reviewed again and again over the past few days. The faces of each Elite Four member glared out at me through an empty blackness, their eyes shining with terrible power. Behind them, floating in the night, was _him_. The Champion. Steven. I saw myself battling them all, throwing myself at them with everything I had. I saw my Pokémon fall. But then it reset: everything began again, only now I knew what would happen, and I changed my tactics, and I progressed. One by one they fell, with me repeating each battle until I knew it perfectly, until it was just muscle memory. At last he loomed before me, the others fallen away. I ran at him, and he grew to an unbelievable height, a juggernaut with steel armor and a thousand-foot stride, but I was not afraid, not going to allow him or _anyone_ to stop me, and I ran on and on, dodging his stomping feet, screaming, my Pokémon running beside me, on and on until morning broke on the horizon.

I woke up the next morning full of exhilaration and trepidation. My name was on the schedule they handed to each day. _Challenger for September 27__th__, 2016: Lidya Pine_. No more killing time. No backing out.

The Elite Four awaited.


	22. The Final Four

**Chapter 22: The Final Four**

They checked my badge case at the door. It was a slightly degrading moment, but I suppose a needed one. Can't have any random trainer who borrowed their mom's Pidgeot come wandering in, wide-eyed and clueless. And there are appearances to keep up—the Gym system needs to be legitimized somehow, and requiring eight badges for entry into an Elite Four tournament is one way to reinforce the "necessity" of the Gyms.

Anyway, two uniformed grunts checked my badges and, satisfied that I'd met the requirements, ushered me through the doorway. One of them gave me a few words of encouragement. I flipped him the bird.

Having been forced to wait almost an entire week to take the Elite Four challenge, I was in no mood to be coddled. Did they think I was some dumb little kid? Maybe. But I certainly didn't look as young as I had when I'd set out two years prior. I caught my reflection in one of the windows that surrounded the first battle chamber. I'd tried to clean myself up for this, but no amount of makeup would restore the youthful shine of my hair, or fully erase the dark circles beneath my eyes. My skin was weathered and a bit scarred. _I could be twenty-two_, I thought. _Or at least eighteen._

But I wasn't twenty-two. I wasn't eighteen.

I was a goddamn fifteen-year-old girl, and I was about to face the four strongest trainers in the region, all in one day.

If, and this was a big if, I made it past the last of the Elite Four, I'd get a day's rest before my battle for Champion status. The battle with… him. That prick.

I'd worry about that later.

"Welcome to the Pokémon League!" a young man said, grinning wickedly. He wore red jeans with suspenders, and a brown vest. His hair was a red mohawk. I smiled when I saw him—he looked like a renegade. Maybe we'd have something in common, assuming we had any time to talk. He stood in the center of the wide battle chamber, which I was now looking at for the first time. The floor was marble, the walls paneled with windows all around, through which stared dozens of onlookers. Some were season-ticket holders, others members of major Pokémon supply companies here on their shareholders' dimes, still others Gym trainers, or even…

"Roxy!" I gasped. There she was, waving cheerfully at me through one of the windows. I smiled, blushed, and looked downward. I was still ashamed of my mistakes. I didn't want her to think of me as anything but the bright young student she'd known when I was at the Rustboro Trainer Academy.

"Your name is Lidya, right? Lidya Pine?" the trainer asked me.

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

"Okay. I'm Sydney, the first of the Elite Four." He gestured around himself. "As you already noticed, we're being watched. Every trainer who takes on the Elite Four is observed by trainer from across the region. The further you get into the challenge, the greater the press coverage." He winked at me. "I'm small potatoes compared to who you'll face later, _if_ you can beat me. But that's not a given!"

I chuckled softly. "Isn't it?"

Sydney's eyes sparkled. "You've got nerve, kid. I like that. Let's battle!"

"With pleasure." I drew Hotwings' ball from my shoulder strap and hurled it. The fiery Blaziken erupted from the ball, his muscles rippling with power, his eyes glowing with heat.

Sydney's first Pokémon was a Mightyena. Having bested a half-dozen of these while fighting Team Aqua, Hotwings knew what to do before I even issued the command. **"Brick break!**" The bird lunged with a taloned fist. Mightyena collapsed, blood dripping from its forehead.

"Go, Shiftry!" Sydney called. A shrub appeared, with devilish yellow eyes and a permanent wooden sneer.

"**Blaze kick!**" Hotwings' leg burst into flame, and a clawed foot delivered a mighty blow to the bush's torso. It briefly exploded with fire before crumpling.

"Ah, you're tough!" Sydney shouted, laughing a little. "Sharpedo!"

"Hotwings, return!" I knew how to handle a Sharpedo—riding one beneath the ocean for hours will do that for you. "Let's do it Polaris!" The unified set of Magnemites hovered on the field, chirping and pinging. "**Thunderbolt!**"

Sydney's Sharpedo writhed with the shock, and fell. He sent out Cacturne—a demonic-looking humanoid cactus—and I brought Hotwings back onto the field. Another **blaze kick** was all it took to faint the foe.

"Last one," Sydney murmured. "You've pretty much thrashed me so far!"

"I don't see that changing!" I called back. He'd sent out an Absol—a white, cat-like creature said to bring tidings of doom to those who see it in the wild. "Hotwings, **brick break**!" It was over in a flash. The Absol lay in a heap on the floor for a moment before disappearing back into its Pokéball.

Sydney began to clap. "Nicely done. Been a long time since someone beat me so thoroughly!"

I nodded, feeling hollow. The easy victory hadn't thrilled me much. But I was glad to be moving forward. Three more left. "Thanks."

"Go on ahead to the next room," Sydney said. He motioned over his shoulder, toward a doorway that hadn't been open before. "I'll be watching your progress, Lidya. I trust you won't disappoint."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I commented as I adjusted my shoulder bag and progressed to the next chamber. I noticed the viewers behind the windows following me, chattering excitedly. My match had clearly been a good one for them—if perhaps rather one-sided. The next fight wouldn't be quite so easy.

* * *

"Do you know what happens to Pokémon when they die, Lidya?" Phoebe asked. Her arena was dark, lit only with candles arranged in concentric circles all over the room. I noticed they'd turned off the lights in the viewing chambers, hiding the audience from view but letting them see through the glass.

"They… uh… they go to a better realm," I said. I could barely see Phoebe in the flickering light. She was a beautiful woman, with dark skin and a floral-print skirt. Her hair was long, I think, and brown, probably. She wore a large flower in it.

"Wrong." Phoebe was grinning at me. Without a word, she let out her first Pokémon. It was Dusclops, a gray mummy-like creature with one horrible eye. "Are you ready to face my creatures of the night? They so love the blackness that I have to keep the room like this, or they become… distressed." Her voice was ethereal.

"Well, you know what other kind of Pokémon enjoy the shadows?" I asked, smirking. "Dark types." I tossed out Rayne's ball. "**Surf**!"

"**Shadow punch**." Rayne sent a jet of water at the enemy. It seemed not to strike it at all, but some of the wrappings came loose, so I knew it must've connected. Dusclops answered with a punch wrapped in black energy. Rayne barely felt it.

"**Crunch**." Rayne chomped Dusclops hard, knocking it out.

"Pokémon who die go nowhere, Lidya," Phoebe said cooly. "Unless we pray for them, their spirits linger, becoming ghost types." With a flick of her wrist, she tossed out a second Pokéball, containing Sableye. This purple ghoul was a dark and ghost type, meaning it suffered from no weaknesses whatsoever. Fortunately, it wasn't particularly hardy.

"Return Rayne. Go, **Polaris**!" Polaris was one of my toughest creatures. It could take the hits. "**Thunderbolt**!"

"**Psychic**." Sableye threw a blast of energy at Polaris, who soaked it up with minimal reaction. In reply, Polaris shocked the enemy with lightning.

"Again!" I called. A flicker of Kyogre's screaming eyes gleamed in my memory. Polaris shocked the foe once more, and it passed out.

"Pokémon who die linger unless they are prayed for. Do you think that means wild Pokémon who die are lost forever?"

"I… um…"

"No." She smiled again. Such an enchanting smile. "Only Pokémon raised by trainers have that privilege. Wilds who die are permitted to depart immediately for the Bright Lands." Another Pokéball with another Dusclops.

I returned Rayne to the field and ordered **surf**, while Phoebe demanded **confuse ray**. After trading blows, Dusclops was hurt and Rayne was confused. I finished the enemy off with **crunch**.

"How do I know all this, you may be wondering?" Phoebe asked, grinning wide. "I trained on Mt. Pyre."

"Ah," I said.

"While I was there, I learned how to speak with the spirits of the departed Pokémon. They came to me, asking for help. Asking for my prayers let them depart this realm."

"…seriously?"

She licked her lips. "I spoke to many of the lost souls of Pokémon. I've been training there for years. In fact, I seem to remember a certain spirit…" Phoebe shut her eyes and hummed, a low, vibrating _ohm_. Her eyes popped open. "Suzie, right? The lost soul of a Beautifly."

"How… how did you know that?" I was shaking.

"I told you: I can speak to the dead." She laughed softly. "Does that frighten you?" She didn't wait for me to answer before throwing another Pokéball. Her next Pokémon was a Banette—the second stage of a Shuppet, and a creepy little Pokémon. It had two beady red eyes and a zipper for a mouth, resembling a child's doll. Rayne felled it in one **crunch**.

"There is _another_ group of spirits who… _linger,_ in our world," Phoebe told me. The air was deathly still and quiet. She paused for a long moment. I shuddered.

"What spirits?" I asked.

Phoebe stepped forward into brighter light. "…do you know what happens to humans when they die, Lidya?" My blood grew icy. Phoebe held up a hand, revealing her final Pokéball suddenly there, as if from nowhere. She tossed it into the field and another Banette came out.

Rayne **crunch**ed it.

And then, silence. Phoebe didn't speak or congratulate me. She just stood there, smiling, eerie, still. Waiting for me to ask the question she knew was still lingering in my thoughts.

"What happens to humans when they die?" I asked. My heart was beating heavily in my ears, so loudly that I was sure everyone could hear it.

Phoebe leaned toward me, smile wider than ever. "The same thing that happens to Pokémon," she whispered. Folding her arms over her chest, she added, "Did you enjoy meeting my family?"

I shivered involuntarily. Did she… was she talking about her… were her Pokémon the spirits of…?

Phoebe laughed a twisted cackle. "You've beaten me. Go on to the next room." She stepped backward into the darkness, and when the lights rose a few seconds later, she was gone.

* * *

The chamber of the third member of the Elite Four was an icebox. The floor was steel and crusted with frost. Huge refrigeration machines hummed along one wall, keeping the temperature low. I began to shiver the moment I entered. My opponent sat on a chair in the middle of the arena. She had shining blonde hair, pale skin, and piercing blue eyes. She was an older woman, but not elderly. When I walked in, she did not smile.

"Greetings, Lidya." I recognized her accent as the same one I'd heard from Rolf, the instructor at the Dive Shop in Mossdeep.

"Hello."

"I am Glacia, the third of the Hoenn Elite Four. I traveled far from my homeland to become an Elite Four member here."

"Why?" I interrupted.

"Vat?"

"Why did you come here to do that?"

"There is no Pokémon League in my home country," she answered simply. "But my love for Pokémon battling was too great to be stopped. You know that the members of the Elite Four have all completed the Gym badge challenge, yes?"

I hadn't known that. "Really?"

"Those who display exemplary power in combat during an Elite Four or Champion battle, but ultimately fail, are still looked at as possible contenders for Elite Four status. Others best the Champion but decide not to become Champion themselves, instead opting to take a seat on the Elite Four."

"Fascinating," I said honestly.

Perhaps Glacia mistook my tone for sarcasm, because she said, "But let us get to the battle. I can tell you are eager. So far in my time here, I've encountered nothing but weak trainers pretending at strength. Are you different from them? Will I be able to go all out against you?"

I grinned. "Hope so."

Now Glacia smiled. "Let's battle. Go, Glalie!" A floating head with piercing yellow eyes, devilish horns, and gray, bone-like flesh appeared. I fielded Hotwings. A single **brick break** was all it took.

"Impressive," Glacia said. She sounded excited. "Let's see how you handle a little more firepower."

Sealeo emerged, looking pudgy and wet. I recalled Hotwings and unleashed my ultimate weapon against Glacia's team: Polaris. With three of her usual five Pokémon being water type, it was a no-brainer. Polaris's resistance to ice was also helpful, but as usual, I didn't want to take any chances.

"**Hail**," Glacia snapped. The blue blob summoned a gray cloud, which began dropping pellets of ice.

"**Double team**," I said. Polaris began to whine and flicker. Instantly there were two—one the real Polaris, and the other an image floating in space.

"Very clever. But it won't help. **Ice beam**," Glacia said.

"**Double team**!" I ordered. And on it went like this for three, four, five, six rounds, until there were half a dozen copies of Polaris hovering on the field, spinning round and round the enemy. "Now, use **thunderbolt**!"

One hit was all it took. Glacia sent out a second Sealeo, which fell the same way, and then a Walrein—Sealeo's evolved form, a massive hulking beast with huge tusks and a bellowing bark. Two **thunderbolts** took care of it.

I recalled Polaris as Glacia sent her final Pokémon. It was another Glalie, and Hotwings dealt with it in the same manner: a **brick break** to the face.

"Well done!" Glacia said. "You've bested me. Go on ahead, and witness the true ferocity of the Elite Four."

"Th-th-th-thanks," I said, my teeth chattering. I hustled out of the cold, glad to be finished with that icebox and its ice queen.

* * *

My one hope for beating Drake the dragon master lie with a tiny gray puffball. I'd replaced Juliet at the last minute, after going over my team composition again and again the night before my matches. Her typing offered only disadvantages against the Four, and she was simply too frail to handle the high-offense environment of these battles. Castform seemed an obvious choice once I bumped Juliet, for one very good reason.

"Castform! Use **hail**!" I called.

"**Rock** **tomb**!" Drake said. He was a strange old man, Drake. In a way he reminded me of Mr. Briney, if the latter had been a crazy pirate instead of a civilized old sailor. Drake wore a captain's hat and a huge coat, but no shirt. His old man chest was weathered and hairy, like the coat of a polar bear. Drake had a tremendous mustache and an eyepatch. His pants were absolute buccaneer.

Drake's Pokémon, a little white, scaly lump called a Shelgon, ejected a rock from its body. The stone collided with icy Castform, cracking its shell. I winced. Castform held on, damaged but still kickin'.

"**Weather ball**!" I ordered, remembering the fight against Winona. As before, a chunk of ice rocketed through the air, colliding with Shelgon and knocking it out. One down!

"You'll not be gettin' the best o' me so easily, lass!" Drake barked. "That was just a warmup!" He unleashed a Flygon—a Pokémon that looked like a cross between a dragon and a mosquito. It buzzed on green wings, darting to and fro like a damselfly.

"Go, Rayne! Use **surf**!" My shark took the field and immediately fired a wave of water.

"**Dragonbreath!**" Flygon retaliated with a burst of purple fire from its tiny mouth. Rayne roared in pain.

"**Blizzard**!" I hollered. That's right. I'd taught Rayne **blizzard**. My team was _ready_ for this. Rayne unleashed a devastating flurry of snow and ice, downing the Flygon easily.

"Yer next challenge is no pushover, lass!" Drake cried. "Altaria!" Another one of these? If Castform weren't injured, I'd reprise its role as the Altaria-slayer. Better to play it safe.

"Go, Ms. Splish! **Toxic**!"

"**Dragon dance** Altaria! Show 'er how a real dragon behaves!" He was mocking my Gyarados! How rude. Ms. Splish spat a torrent of purple poison at Altaria, who turned a sickly greenish-blue even as flames swirled around her body.

"**Blizzard**!" Like I said, no chances taken. I'd brought three Pokémon capable of ice-type moves.

"**Dragonbreath!**" The snow flurry hit, but so did the violet flames. Both Pokémon were injured but stable.

"**Waterfall**!" Ms. Splish charged on a current of water, slamming into the enemy and knocking her from the sky. "Yes! Nice work!" I patted Ms. Splish's tail. Through the windows surrounding the arena I could see the audience break into applause.

"Two left to best, missy." Drake brought out another Flygon. Ms. Splish eliminated it with one **blizzard**. "Argh! Ye be quite a strong lady. One o' the strongest I've seen in ages… But how will ye deal with this?" His final Pokémon. I knew what it would be, and it was: Salamence, a massive dragon with blue scales, red wings, and terrible jaws. It slithered on all fours, its long neck and tail wriggling as it growled at its opponent.

"Ms. Splish, use **toxic**!"

"**Fly!**" The Salamence took to the air, hovering high above my Pokémon. Her attack missed—the poison soaked the floor instead. Undeterred, I ordered the same attack again. Salamence now dove and slammed into Ms. Splish, who began to bleed from the injury. She retaliated with a burst of poison, toxifying the enemy.

"Ms. Splish, to me," I ordered. The serpent came dutifully to my side, and I administered a Hyper Potion—I'd learned how to make them while Axel and I were experimenting with Ether recipes. It was just like a normal potion, only stronger. I even put it in a standard potion bottle. Her wound healed beneath the spray.

"**Dragon claw**," Drake commanded. As Ms. Splish returned to battle, Salamence lashed out with deadly blades. The blow was fierce.

"**Blizzard**!"

"**Fly**!" Ms. Splish missed. Salamence waited overhead.

"Get it with **blizzard **when it lands!" I ordered, crossing my fingers. If this didn't work, I'd be in a jam. I couldn't keep healing Ms. Splish like this, and soon she'd run out of energy to perform her only ice attack.

Salamence dove in, striking fiercely. Ms. Splish was ready. As the dragon spun back around to land, she hit it full on with the icy blast. The dragon rent the air with a roar and fell, defeated.

"Aye… ye've bested me lass. 'Twas a fierce battle. Well done, Lidya." He bowed. I recalled Ms. Splish and, feeling dramatic, bowed in return.

And suddenly, it was over. I'd done it. I'd beaten the Elite Four.

The cheers of the crowd rumbled through the glass all around me, and already I could see a gang of reporters hurrying my way, cameras and mikes in hand. But I could barely sense any of it. My focus was singular.

Tomorrow, all of this would be over.

Tomorrow, I'd be sixteen.


	23. Steven Stone

**Chapter 23: Steven Stone**

Here's how it all works: after you beat the Elite Four, reporters will swarm you, asking you questions about your battle strategies, your Pokémon, your life story, your preferences, your aspirations, and most of all, your thoughts about your upcoming match with the Champion. Most trainers who make it to this point are overwhelmed, stumbling through their half-baked replies to what should be expected questions.

I, however, told them all to go to hell. I'd talk with them after I beat Steven.

After this potentially grueling media frenzy, the League sequesters you in a special room for the remainder of the day. Your Pokémon, confiscated until just before the final bout, are healed and carefully examined by a medical professional, in case you managed to slip some performance-enhancers past the judges the first time. You, on the other hand, are left alone to think, to prepare, to meditate, to do whatever it is you do the night before you put everything on the line for a shot at glory.

And then they bring you dinner and the rulebook.

Dinner is fine. The rulebook is bullshit. It's about two hundred pages long, and most of it is stuff you learned when you were still stumbling around your hometown, your starter Pokémon tripping along at your heels as you struggled to figure out which button to press on the Pokéball—and Pokéballs only _have_ one button.

Let me give you an excerpt from the first page: "We live in a world inhabited by creatures known as Pokémon. Some people capture and train these creatures to battle. Others keep them as pets. And still others study them, in order to better understand their mysterious ways and powers."

This is like "Baby's First Pokémon" stuff. Here's another sample from roughly halfway through the tome: "Another of the _status_ _effects_ that may occur during battle is _poison_. This will slowly drain the health of the afflicted Pokémon, and is aggravated by movement."

If I didn't know about poison by now, how the world did I make it past_ the Elite goddamn Four_?

And yet… I understood why they shoved these rules in your hands, despite their superfluity. There were two reasons: first, because then they could say they'd told you the risks; and second, because Steven was no pushover.

I'd spent the past week reading reviews and watching videos in preparation for facing him (as well as the other Elites), and I knew well the danger I was putting myself and my team into. He was undefeated. You might think this would be the normal state of affairs, but as Glacia had pointed out to me during our battle, sometimes trainers beat the last challenge but choose not to put on the crown. This was not one of those scenarios. Every single trainer who'd battled him in the last four years—e_very single one_—had gone home in shame. Steven was the longest-running Champion in Hoenn League history, and everyone who challenged him had been defeated.

But it wasn't just that they lost—it was _how_ they lost. Steven's Pokémon had a habit of crippling or killing as many of the opponent's Pokémon as possible. I'd watched—on the replay vids—Steven's Skarmory peck out a Beedrill's eyes, seen his Aggron stomp a Camerupt into pulp, been mesmerized as his Metagross, arguably the jewel in Steven's Pokémon crown, pulled a Raichu in half, spilling red guts everywhere. His penchant for ordering his Pokémon to maim or slay the challenger's strongest battlers was well-known and well-loved by Steven's fanatical fanbase, and the reason why he did it was obvious: if a trainer brings their toughest Pokémon to the battle, and those Pokémon are eradicated, that trainer will probably give up trying to become Champion, or at least need months or years of work to rebuild their team. It was job security.

_I face that tomorrow_, I told myself. _Hope I'm ready._

* * *

I was lonely that night, lonelier than I could remember being in a long time. The room, while comfortable, even lavish, was awfully dark and much too quiet. After so many nights listening to the rumble of traffic through Goldenrod while basking in the glow of the streetlights outside, I was accustomed to less plush surroundings. And dammit, I missed Axel. Not his lies or his anger or his constant pressure to use… but simply his presence. The feeling of a warm body next to mine under the covers.

As I sat on the bed, whiling away the hours, my thoughts moved of their own accord, wandering as far as I had on my journey. All of my work to get to this point seemed insubstantial and faint, like it'd only taken a few days instead of over two years. _Two years._ I could scarcely believe how much I'd changed in two years. I stood and spent some time studying myself in the mirror.

I was taller now, by about three inches. My, uh, let's go with… _womanly features_ were becoming larger and more attractive by the day, which suited me fine. My whole body seemed more substantial, the flesh thicker, the muscles denser. My skin was freckled and tough from so much time in the sun. I still had the toxic poison scar, the dark circles beneath my eyes, and the track marks on my arms from shooting Elixir, but beyond that I was healthy and fit.

But what did it matter? I had no friends my own age. Except for Roxy, Taylor, and Dad, I was utterly without ties to Hoenn. Would anyone even care if I became the Champion? I wasted an hour brooding on this.

I didn't spend the _entire_ evening by myself, however. At about nine, before I go ready for bed, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it cautiously and was met with a most unexpected guest.

"Steven?" I said in shock.

"Good evening Lidya. Might I come in?" He was wearing a black suit and matching coat. His eyes, dark pools under his shining silver-blue hair, betrayed nothing as to the reason for his visit.

"Um, sure? Is this… uh… allowed the night before our battle?" I asked uneasily, showing him in and sitting across from him at a little table. I poured him a glass of bubbly water from the bottle I'd been keeping the ice bucket.

"Well, strictly speaking… no." He winked at me as one winks at a close friend. "But let's keep it our little secret." He sipped the drink. Smacked his lips. Went _aah_.

"Ooo… kay." We were silent for an awkwardly long moment. "So, uh… what's up?"

Steve put down the glass and stared directly into my face. He leaned forward slightly. "I won't waste your time, Lidya. I'm here to make you an offer."

My heart thumped extra hard once or twice. "An offer?" I hadn't liked the last offer I'd been involved in. "What do you mean?"

Steven leaned back, then drew a thin rectangular steel case and a blue pen from his jacket pocket. He casually snapped the case open—a checkbook—and began to write. After a time, he tore out the check and put it on the table before me. "Tomorrow," he said, "we're going to battle. You're going to knock out the first three of my Pokémon. Then, when Metagross comes out, your Pokémon will begin to fall one by one. The last Pokémon you send out will die—we have to keep up _some_ appearances. You will then leave Ever Grande, cash this check, and live happily ever after in whatever region suits your fancy."

I glanced at the amount. _Damn!_ That was more money that I'd ever even _conceived_ of having. "You… you're paying me to take the fall?" I whispered.

"Lidya," Steven said beseechingly, but not without a hint of cat-like malice, "I _respect_ you as a trainer, I _really_ do. I _know_ what you're capable of. I have some very close friends who frequent the Goldenrod Arena, and they saw you in action. Said you were _spectacular_. So I want to settle this cleanly, without any more bloodshed or damage than is… necessary."

"But I won't become the Champion if I do this."

"Do you really _want_ to be the Champion? It's a _lot_ of responsibility. There are countless meetings and legislative sessions for the League, ribbon cuttings, dinners, and all manner of such things, on top of your duties in taking on challengers, surveying and testing Gym Leaders, selecting the Elite Four… it's exhausting!" He mockingly wiped his brow. "_You_ don't want _all_ _that_. _You_ just want to battle. But battling is one of the _least_ frequent things you get to do as Champion."

I took a deep breath. I had _not_ expected this. "And… if I refuse?"

Steven's smile did not flicker, but his eyes grew cold. "If we battle for real, Lidya, there will be blood, and it won't _all_ be coming from your Pokémon. A fight between us would be catastrophic for _both_ our teams. Why not put this to bed quietly, simply, neatly?" He tapped the check with a gloved finger. "I know you need this money. And it really would be unfortunate if, say, your loss led to a lack of faith in your father's ability to run his Gym, wouldn't it? Like daughter, like father, right?" He continued smiling at me with feline malice. "That would really be a shame. So what do you say?"

I was caught off guard. What would my mom do in this situation? What would my friends do? What would my _dad_ do? He was the only one who might even consider taking this deal.

Tenderly, I picked up the check. Steven's smile grew wider. "So let me make sure I understand," I started. "We'll fight. Three of your Pokémon fall. Then my whole team loses to Metagross, and the last Pokémon I send out is a sacrifice, in order to keep the audience happy." I laughed bitterly. "They _always_ want blood."

Steven nodded. "That's how it goes."

"And then I take this check," I shook it a little, making it flap, "cash it, and live like a queen for many years to come."

"Correct."

I paused. "Tell me Steven… how many other trainers have you paid off like this?"

Steven continued to wear his mysterious grin. "I really shouldn't say."

"At least one though, right?"

He shrugged. "Let's say… perhaps."

I stared at the check. Thought about the life it could buy me. Thought about how hard I'd worked, just to throw it all away for money. Thought about how I'd done exactly the same thing already, except for a boy and his drugs. Thought about what I'd promised my mother, all those years ago: _I'll make you proud_, I'd said. What would make her proud right now?

My father's words echoed in my ears, summoned from nowhere: _There's a time and place for everything, Lidya_. And suddenly, I knew what I had to do. What he would do. What she would've done.

I took the check.

* * *

I dreamt of clouds that night.

* * *

The end began shortly after dawn the next morning. They'd let me choose the time, and that's what I picked. I was used to getting up early. I figured Steven might not be, and any edge I could get was more than welcome.

For today's battle I'd gone back and forth on what to wear. Part of me wanted to go with my Toxissa outfit, but in the end I decided to return to the clothes that had started me on my way: red bandana, red collared shirt, white skirt, black leggings, and running shoes. The very outfit I'd worn the day I became a trainer. I kept the rad messenger bag that held my six Pokéballs with a strap across my chest—a gift from my mom, as you might remember.

Before heading out, I went to the bathroom with a pair of scissors and severed the long brown ponytail from my head. After a few minutes of tidying up, I now sported a stylish pixie bob. Today marked the end of an age for me, and where I succeeded or failed, I could never go back. Just like my hair.

I left the room with trepidation, navigated the myriad hallways, and entered the arena with a rapidly-beating heart. This stadium was not like the others I'd been through yesterday. The final battlefield is a wide open circle of packed dirt, with rows of seating all around the outside. My feet made little puffs in the dry dust as I approached the center, where a huge Pokéball had been drawn in the soil. I was shocked to see that despite the hour, the chairs were packed.

I took another look around. Was that… yes, it was. It was him. My father. And Taylor, a few seats away! They were waving. I waved back. Other faces now stood out to me as I carefully surveyed the crowd. I recognized Roxanne, with her pigtails and school uniform. I spotted Flannery, her brilliant red hair hard to miss. Even Wattson, that insane old man, had come out to see this battle. And there were others I recognized too, others I had not expected to see: the Mimic Circle, each of them imitating me as I studied the crowd; Mr. Briney, sipping coffee; Maxie and some Team Magma goons, in street garb; Professor Cosmo from Meteor Falls; the scientists from the Oceanic Museum, with Captain Stern; and, unbelievably, Lana and Cliff, smiling and pointing. I was flabbergasted.

_They all came out to support me,_ I thought. My heart felt lighter.

_Or did they come to watch me fail? _Now a seed of doubt took root. Dammit.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" a tinny voice cracked through loudspeakers. "Welcome to today's League Championship Challenge Match!" Clapping. "Today's challenger is… Lidya Pine, formerly of Littleroot!" Thunderous applause—they were very excited, particularly because most of them knew me from the news stories about the attack that annihilated Littleroot. I blushed. Were these people really _that_ excited to see me fight? "Ms. Pine has already taken the field. And now, please join me in welcoming the current Hoenn Pokémon League Champion…" and here the announcer drew out the name like a boxing promoter, "Steeevveennnn… _Stooonnnne!_" Raucous cheering. Half the crowd, it seemed, was here for Steven, if their "You Got Stone'd" t-shirts and plush Metagross from the Ever Grande gift shop were any indication.

And out he came in his stupid black suit, his purple cravat rippling in the gentle breeze, his hair silvery blue, his face frozen in that same smug grin I knew too well as he waved to the audience. I loathed him in that moment. He walked casually to his place on the far side of the ring, lifted a small microphone to his lips, and began to speak.

* * *

"Lidya Pine!" he called as he took his place on the other side of the circle. "It's so _good_ to see you again! It's been such a long time." His voice echoed out across the stadium.

"Yeah," I hollered sarcastically. No mic for me, apparently. "Ages and ages."

He tilted his head. "I was looking forward to meeting you here one day. What did you see on your journey with your Pokémon? You must have experienced _such_ wonders." Was he mocking me? "What did you feel, meeting so many new people, so many other trainers? What has it awoken in you?"

_Oh, wait, I get it now_. The audience was eating this up. Maybe he did this schtick every time a challenger appeared. Only the battles themselves were recorded in the replay files, so I didn't know for sure, but probably.

Steven bellowed, "Everything you've learned… I want you to hit me with it all! Now, bring it!"

With a dramatic flourish, he drew a Pokéball from an unseen pocket inside his jacket and sent the orb flying with a powerful throw. His ball landed with a _tink _in the center of the field. I, having watched many of his prior battles, knew what he'd probably use first: Skarmory. So I readied Polaris and hurled the ball into the ring. "Ton!" Polaris shrieked. Skarmory, that familiar iron bird with blades for wings, cawed loudly at its opponent.

"Polaris!" I hollered. "**Thunderbolt**!" Polaris unleaded a powerful blast of lightning. I saw Skarmory's body twitch and shake, and down it went.

Steven appeared nonplussed. "Hardly worth worrying about," he said in the mic, smirking. "Go, Aggron!" A towering behemoth landed on the field, its body as thick as a rhino's and covered in steel plating. I recalled Polaris and sent out Ruby. The audience was predictably awed by my shiny companion, and a gasp of excitement went up. I felt a swell of pride. _Damn right. Don't see any shinies on Steven's team, do you?_

"Aggron, use **solar beam**," Steven ordered.

"Ruby, hit him with **earthquake**!" I shouted.

Ruby was faster. He pounded into the earth violently with his claws, releasing so much power that the ground under Aggron rippled. The hulking beast toppled, unconscious. The crowd cheered wildly. I remained focused on Steven's face, studying him carefully. He betrayed no emotion. Was he thinking about our deal?

Steven sent out Cradily, a human-sized plant with bits of stone adorning its leaves. This was a tough matchup for my team, but I knew who to send out. "Hotwings!"

"Ken!" Hotwings chirped as he burst onto the battlefield.

"**Confuse ray!**" Steven exclaimed.

"**Brick break**!" I shouted in reply. Hotwings reared back and let loose a devastating punch. Cradily, slower than a Slowpoke, didn't even have time to react. The taloned fist sent it rocketing away, skidding across the dirt floor and colliding with the arena wall, its stone and grass head disconnected from its body. A critical hit! I gasped and looked at Steven, waiting. This unintended killing… what would his reaction be?

There wasn't one. Looking almost bored by the whole affair, Steven left the dead Cradily where it lay and casually rolled another Pokéball around in his hand. After a moment, he practically whispered into the mic, "Metagross." A large portion of the audience broke into a frenzy: this was clearly what they'd been waiting for. As had I.

With a terrible, screeching roar, Metagross emerged from its ball, landing at the edge of the ring close to Steven. The steel juggernaut stood on four legs as thick as tree trunks, each ending with three powerful metal spikes. Its body was a mound on a disc, with a bladed X across its face and two menacing red eyes. This was Steven's pride and joy. This was the strongest Pokémon Steven had.

Time to unleash my own secret weapon. And it wasn't Hotwings, whose typing made him extremely vulnerable to Metagross' psychic attacks. No, I had something even more devastating to wield.

_There's a time and place for everything, Lidya_.

I left Hotwings standing by my spot outside the arena and walked around the ring, heading for my opponent. Steven stared at me in confusion as I approached.

"What are you-" he started. With great audacity, I reached out and took the microphone from his hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" I hollered, then winced as the sound of my voice reverberated all around me, creating feedback. I spoke more quietly as I continued, "I have an announcement to make." I'd been running through my presentation in my mind all night. I began to walk backward through the ring, gesturing as I spoke. "The battle you're watching is not what it seems!" I brushed past Metagross, who rumbled at me, and continued until I was standing in the center of the Pokéball on the floor. I drew the check from my jacket pocket and held it aloft, like a banner. Steven's expression flickered. _Good,_ I thought. _I hope you're scared_. "I hold in my hand a check, written by the Champion, Steven Stone." I pointed a finger at him, then turned my back toward him to show off the damning evidence. "Last night, Steven came to my room and offered me the sum of—"

A flash of red feathers. Hotwings—moving with blinding speed—bolted toward, then past me. I didn't have time to turn or even blink before he was at my back. A loud clang rent the air.

There was a sudden heavy impact, and I felt a sharp pain, fearsome and biting, up my left side. I looked down. There was a steel spike protruding from my shirt, just against my hip. The tip gleamed red. As I looked on, my vision fading to black around the edges, the blade withdrew. I felt its cold metal slide along my cut flesh.

I dropped the mic, the check, and to my knees, screeching in pain and instinctively clutching my ribs. My hand came away wet and red. I heard the crowd gasp in shock, and there was a commotion behind me. I spun dizzily, falling over—now everything was on its side as my face pressed into the dirt. For a moment or two, I passed out from the pain.

When I awoke I saw, through blurry eyes, Metagross staggering backward, one of its deadly spikes colored with my blood, as Hotwings pummeled the behemoth's steel casing, delivering powerful punches and flaming kicks. Metagross had the check stuck to another of its needle-like claws. Steven deftly swiped it from the creature's arm and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

With great effort, I bit through the pain and lifted myself to one knee, still holding my bleeding ribcage. Intense agony wracked me, but I forced it down, focusing. Hotwings was administering blow after blow to the opponent, relentless. But then he froze, mid-punch. _No… no!_ I gaped in horror as Metagross's eyes glowed hot crimson.

Psychic beats fighting.

Hotwings levitated a few feet off the ground and hung there, struggling, cawing, crying out for help. I tried to draw a Pokéball to recall him, but the pain… I let out a little scream, unable to muster the strength. Everything was moving in slow motion. I suddenly remembered Kyogre, deep under the tsunami waters, as it prepared to fire the blast that killed Brendan. Thought about a tree trunk, spiraling toward my mother's defenseless body.

Metagross reared back its powerful arm, and the very spike I'd been struck with—already stained crimson—impaled Hotwings, slicing through feathers and muscle, crunching ribs, bursting organs, ejecting a jet of red out the other side as the tip pierced through, the blood splattering me, and I stared on and on, dying inside, screaming inside, ignoring the hot liquid trickling down my cheeks, thinking only one word: _Hotwings. Hotwings. Hotwings. _

My Blaziken fell to the ground. Like the Torchic doll I'd left behind in Goldenrod, there he lay, limp. Lifeless. Growing cold. Metagross swept the body aside. It landed in a crumpled heap on the far edge of the battlefield.

"No… please, no…" I tried to cry, but my voice was weak, my body shaking from the wound. "No, no, no no no no noooo…" I began to sob bitterly.

Steven was laughing. He walked over to where I remained on one knee and picked up the dropped microphone. "So sorry! Don't know quite what happened there. Are you all right? Are you fit to keep fighting?" He offered me a hand. "And what was it you were saying about a 'check' or some such nonsense? I can assure you that no such meeting ever occurred." Moving the mic away from his mouth, Steven murmured: "The price of betrayal is high, Lidya."

I didn't take his hand, but instead rose of my own accord. The world swam. When it came back, I could see straight, and the pain had subsided to a dull ache. Thank you, adrenaline. The injury was actually glancing—it seemed the blow had cut my skin alone. I'd probably need stitches, but there was no permanent or internal damage. Hotwings had saved my life yet again, sacrificing his in the process. _Oh, Hotwings… damn you Steven!_

Regaining myself, I took the mic back and screeched, "You just tried to kill me!"

Steven snagged the mic. "Hardly! Your Blaziken was moving in to attack. My Metagross simply defended itself. It's certainly not my fault you were struck: your Pokémon deflected the blow right into you." He sneered at me. "Besides, official Pokémon League rules—Chapter 3, Article 5, Section 2.1—state that a trainer entering the designated battle area during a match accepts the possibility that they may be injured or killed by a Pokémon attempting to continue combat." He leaned down toward my face. "Didn't you read your _rulebook_?" Another laugh.

I clocked him in the jaw with a right hook. He stumbled backward, clutching his lip, which had begun to bleed slightly. I picked up the mic. "Chapter 3, Article 5, Section 2.4—any time both trainers enter the designated battle area, melee combat between the trainers may take place as a means of settling a dispute!" I dropped the mic and, grunting with the pain of movement, shuffled back to my spot outside the edge of the ring.

The audience, throughout all of this, had been reacting as might be expected—gasps, shrieks, nervous chatter. Steven put up both his hands. "Everyone! Lidya says she's fit to continue the battle, so let's move on with the main event. Despite the unusual circumstances, I think we can all agree this fight is not yet over. A Champion must be decided!" He returned to his place beside Metagross. The look in his eye was murderous as he returned my gaze.

"Damn right we're gonna settle this," I muttered.

Wiping some blood from his lip, he said, "Now, Lidya, I believe you need to field a Pokémon? And just to show there are no hard feelings, I'll swap out my Metagross for something else." He recalled Metagross and sent out a gray and pink doll-shaped creature about three feet tall: a Claydol. It hovered gently above the ground, the eight eyes around its disc-shaped head blinking. Steven performed a mock bow and added, "Whenever you're ready, challenger."

Dammit Steven! My plan to expose his treachery had gone horribly awry. _No time for that now, Lidya. You've got to win_. I took a deep breath. What had I planned for this? Ah, of course.

"Go, Castform!" My little gray puffball was going to save the day once again. "Use **rain dance**!"

"**Reflect!**" Steven ordered. Claydol created a pink shield of energy around itself. Castform, meanwhile, summoned a tiny gray cloud overhead, which began to drip water. Castform morphed, now a little blue raindrop.

"**Light screen!**" Steven shouted.

"**Weather ball!**" I replied. Another shield of energy appeared around Claydol. Castform ejected a massive ball of water at the foe, hitting it hard.

"**Ancient power**!" Claydol released a barrage of glowing rocks, which struck Castform cleanly in the face. But the little guy held on. I smiled.

"**Weather ball **again!" Castform fired another blast of water. Claydol lay on the ground now, barely conscious. Then with a rapidity that startled me, Steven dashed forward and administered healing using some sort of potion-like bottle. Claydol hovered again, looking as strong as ever. Full Restore? Clever. But it would be of little help.

I grinned wickedly. "**Weather ball**!" I barked, not waiting for Steven to get out of the ring. He dashed out just as Castform launched a bolt at alarming speed. The ball of water struck the floating toy squarely in one of its eyes… and kept going right out the back. The water, along with a section of Pokémon brain, splattered on the far wall. Critical hit! Claydol dropped immediately to the ground with a hollow _thunk_.

"Ha!" I jeered.

"I've still got two left!" Steven called back. "And one of them has already tasted blood!" He threw out a ball containing… oh my god. What the hell Pokémon was that? It stood five feet tall and resembled a steel-plated armadillo. Its back was adorned with red and white fan-like spines, and its two red eyes narrowed angrily at me. I'd never seen that one before! It wasn't in any of his videos! What type was it? What moves did it know? I was flying blind… and that could mean disaster.

* * *

"Shit… shit…" I muttered. "Go Ms. Splish!" She was a safe bet, assuming it wasn't an electric type. The only steel and electric type I knew of was Magneton. Fingers crossed… "Ms. Splish, use **toxic**!" If it were a steel type, this would have no effect. Better to find out now than later.

"Armaldo, **aerial ace!**" Ms. Splish ejected a jet of purple poison, which soaked the so-called Armaldo. Armaldo, in turn, sliced into Ms. Splish with a sharp claw—but the damage was minimal. And… yes! The poison had worked. Armaldo's visible flesh turned a sickly gray color.

"**Blizzard**!" I cried, hoping it might have a secondary typing that was weak to ice.

"**Ancient power**!" Oh no. Sparkling rocks flew through the air, knocking Ms. Splish around like a kite in a storm. She retaliated with a blast of snow and ice… which did almost nothing. Armaldo barely flinched. C'mon Lidya, think! The poison did its work: Armaldo wobbled a bit unsteadily as the toxin spread.

"**Waterfall**!" I called.

"**Ancient power**!" Ms. Splish charged forward on a jet of water, slamming into the foe just as Armaldo's rocks collided with her. Massive damage! Both fell to the ground… but only Ms. Splish got up again, albeit barely. She was hanging on by a thread.

"Yes! Yes!" I hollered. The audience was going insane over this. I could barely hear myself think over the din of cheering and applause.

Steven was no longer smiling. He knew I still had four healthy Pokémon left. He knew I knew what his final Pokémon was. And he knew I would stop at nothing to beat him. So I can't say I blamed him for looking alarmed as he called out, "Metagross!" once again.

I was ready. "Ruby!" I replied. My shiny Sandslash took the field. Metagross towered over him, a rodent confronting a skyscraper.

"What's this then? Your chicken failed, so you send out a mouse?" Steven taunted. He brushed more blood from his cut lip. "Pathetic. Metagross, use **psychic**."

"**Earthquake**," I ordered. Ruby drilled downward with his claws, sending a cataclysmic shockwave at Metagross. Yes! That did some damage. The steel titan retaliated with a blast of psychic energy. Ruby tumbled over and began to bleed from sudden, inexplicable lacerations. "No!" I yelped. What could stop those psychic attacks? Wait. Yes. I had it.

"**Psychic**," Steven said. "Finish it."

"Ruby, return!" I shrieked. "Go Rayne!" Rayne erupted from her ball and absorbed the blast, taking no damage.

"Agh! Damn you!" Steven growled. "No matter. **Meteor mash!**"

"**Crunch**!" Rayne lunged out and bit into Metagross, but its metallic body was too tough for more than surface damage. Suddenly, a deafening rumble could be heard from above. A blue and white orb of pure iron plummeted from the sky, guided on by Metagross and its sinister red eyes. The meteor slammed into Rayne. She let out a howl of pain as one of her fins ripped off from the impact, blood gushing from the injury. The audience inhaled in shock. Maimed. One more hit and she'd be done for.

Steven's smile reappeared, and mine faded. _Dammit_! I thought. Castform would be eaten alive by Metagross. Ruby was already injured, as was Ms. Splish. Polaris was still healthy, but Steven would likely anticipate that switch and use **earthquake**, dropping it in one hit. There… there was no other way.

I had to make a sacrifice.

_I'm sorry Rayne_, b_ut I can't risk a swap into an attack_. _Please… forgive me. _

"Rayne, **crunch**!" Rayne seemed to look at me with pleading eyes. I bit back my tears. "You heard me." Rayne, obedient to the end, readied her jaws for another strike.

"**Hyper** **beam**!" Steven called. He hadn't expected me to change! Which meant Rayne didn't have to-

But it was too late. Metagross levitated itself, brought its four limbs together, and fired a huge blast of white energy at Rayne. I looked away from the blinding flash. When I could see again, there was nothing left but a patch of scorched earth where Rayne had once been.

I let out a little sob. "I'm sorry Rayne," I whispered. But her sacrifice had not been in vain, because I knew something Steven appeared to have forgotten: Pokémon need rest after **hyper beam**. The battle was mine.

"Ruby!" I yelled with a cracked voice, throwing a final Pokéball, "finish it with **earthquake**!" The little red and gold Sandslash, still bleeding from his injures, mustered all of his strength for one final slam into the ground. A jagged crack shot through the dirt toward the enemy. Metagross had just landed when the earth beneath it ripped apart. The shockwave vibrated the beast until, with a deafening screech of metal, it collapsed in a heap, unconscious. Defeated.

My opponent screamed with rage into the mic, threw it to the ground, and stormed back to the entrance hallway leading out of the arena. He was finished.

The crowd stood, screaming, clapping, all their eyes on me. The announcer called out my name in a long, drawn-out cheer.

And I wept bitter, joyful tears of relief.

It was over. It was _finally_ _over_. I'd done it. I'd beaten Steven Stone.

I was the Pokémon League Champion.


	24. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_So that's it. That's how I did it._

_What, were you expecting some kind of moral? Some bigger picture?_

_Here's a moral for you: don't get addicted to drugs._

_Here's another: don't go out on your own when you're thirteen and travel around the region by yourself, fighting people three times your age and twice your size with little monsters that you will inevitably become deeply fond of and be forced to watch die because of your own stupid failure, you miserable little-_

_What? C'mon._

…_all right. Fine. I'll make one last statement, then. Spoilsport._

My name is Lidya Pine. I turned sixteen yesterday.

As Pokémon League Champion, I am allowed the privilege of creating decrees regarding the practice of Pokémon battling in the region of Hoenn. I have a few I'd like to issue right now.

First, the legal battling age will henceforth be sixteen. No person under that age may obtain a Trainer ID. Persons who already have IDs but are underage will be allowed to keep them, but may not challenge the Elite Four until they have reached the legal battling age.

Second, trainers must undergo six months of education on the rules and nuances of Pokémon battling before they are allowed to get a Trainer ID. This work can begin when the trainer is fifteen and a half, or any time after that. Those who obtained Trainer IDs prior to today are exempt from this requirement.

Third, trainers may now withdraw a Pokémon from battle before the Pokémon faints or is killed. The moment they do this, the match ends and is counted as a "forfeit" for the trainer who withdrew their Pokémon. They must still pay the usual fee for a loss.

Fourth, trainers may now choose not to battle other trainers they encounter on the road. If they do this, they must pay the usual fee for a loss and the match is counted as a "concede" for the trainer who opted not to battle.

And fifth, I plan to reexamine the Gyms in this region for quality and ethical behavior. I have a distinct feeling that some of them will not be up to the strict regulations I have in mind.

To those of you who followed my story to the end: thank you. This has not been easy for me to talk about, but I think it's important for you to know the truth about Pokémon battles and the culture that surrounds them. You, young trainer, need to understand what it's _really_ like out there.

Let my struggles be a stark example, harsh enough to dissuade you from ever taking up the mantle of the trainer. Let the fact that I persevered through seemingly insurmountable hardships be an inspiration to you. Let the pain I suffered be a reminder of what it takes to become the greatest trainer of them all. And let the strength and skill I possess be warning enough to you to never even embark on a Pokémon journey.

Because if you _do _get that first starter from your local professor…

And you _do _last long enough to catch a few Pokémon…

And you _do_ take the Gym challenge…

And you _do_ collect all the badges…

And you _do _survive Victory Road…

And you _do_ make it past the Elite Four…

_I'll _be waiting for you.

…_okay, that's it. That's all. I'm done._

…_I'm exhausted, that's why! What is wrong with you people? Let me go talk to my friends. I'm done telling stories._

_Huh? Oh, fine. One photo. For the Hall of Fame, yeah? Right-o._

_Stand here? Sure. Okay._

_Cheese._

_Thanks. Bye._

**THE END**


End file.
